Drunk Love

Thigh Riding

Summary: Wally in his little shorts just does something to you. Leading to you drooling over his thighs. You ask to ride his thigh and he can't deny you especially when you ask so nicely.

Author Note: This gif inspired this entire thing. His slutty little shorts are everything.

NSFW. 18+

Wally Clark knew what he was doing when he said you should have a pool day. You’d found Rhonda and Charlie lounging on the bleachers and Wally was floating around on an inner tube. You walked to the edge of the pool sitting and letting your feet hang in the water. You were so glad you had found some cute sunglasses in the lost and found that hid your gaze.

Your eyes hadn’t left Wally’s thick thighs in his slutty little gym shorts. He looked absolutely delectable. Your mind couldn’t help but wander how nice it would feel to ride them. The thought alone had you wet. Had you somehow gotten hornier in death? Or was it just the himbo jock that brought it out in you?

Wally looked over at you with a smile. “You coming in or are you gonna be boring like those two?” He motioned to Rhonda and Charlie earning a middle finger from Rhonda. You laughed at their interaction and stood up shimmying out of your skirt. Your band tee hitting the floor shortly after.

Wally almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of you in your little black lacy bra and panties. His mouth watered at your plush thighs and his cock twitched at your breast spilling slightly over the top of your bra. He didn’t know what he did in life to deserve this but damn he was happy about it.

You walked down the steps into the pool goosebumps erupting onto your skin. You pulled the claw clip from your hair letting your curls free. You slowly made your way to Wally the pool getting deep enough that you had to tiptoe to him. You rested your hands on his inner tube and let your legs float to the surface behind you. You rested your chin next to Wally’s arm relaxing into the water.

“Where’d you get those shades?” Wally questioned stealing them from your face to examine them. “The lost and found. Where else?” You giggle stealing them back. He hops out of his floaty and into the water offering it to you. You decline so he sets it on the side of the pool. You both just float there for a moment looking at each other until Rhonda clears her throat. You look over at her as she says “Charlie and I are gonna go hang out with Yuri. You guys gonna stay here?” She glances between the two of you and gathers her stuff. “Yea, I’m gonna swim for a bit.” You nod bobbing in the water. Wally nods saying “I’m gonna hang with y/n here.” Rhonda and Charlie nod shooting you goodbye waves as they leave you and Wally.

Wally clears his throat awkwardly and mumbles “I like your suit.” A smirk graces his handsome face as he motions to you. You giggle at him. “I’m sure you do.” You tease wiggling your eyebrows at him. His cheeks heat but he doesn’t look away from you. “Wally are you checking me out?” You whisper fluttering your lashes at him. He floats closer now a few inches from you. “Of course I’m checking you out. Look at you. You are every guys wet dream.” His voice raspier than normal.

A pout graces your lips as you look at him. “Wally?” You ask softly. He lets out a mhm eyes locked on your lips. “Do you wanna go find somewhere a little more cozy?” Your voice lowers seductively. His eyes widen, pupils blown and darker somehow. “Yes, absolutely.” He tries not to sound too giddy but you find it adorable.

You both climb out of the pool. Wally close behind you. He wraps a towel around your shoulders and helps gather your clothes. He grabs your shoes and follows behind you as you tug his hand leading him through the school. You guide him to the theater and down into the under stage area. Once the trap door closes you drop the towel thankful that for once the reset comes in handy. You take your things from Wally and push him down on the couch. You toss your clothes down and move to straddle his hips. His hands immediately settle on your hips as you rest your forehead against his.

“Wally? Can I try something?” You ask softly wetting your lips. Wally lets out a husky laugh before saying “Baby you can do whatever you want to me. You could smack me and I’d thank you.” His hands trace the waistband of your panties a smirk on his face as he lifts his hips pressing his hard cock against you. A small gasp leaves your lips at the pressure of him against you. “I want to ride your thigh. Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you in these shorts.” You whine as you capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You slowly slide off his lap, lips still attached to his. Your lips part as you get on your knees in between his legs. You lean down trailing your lips up his inner thigh. You nip and bite marking up his meaty thighs. He lets out a groan as you run your tongue up his thigh. "I'm getting carried away but fuck you are pretty." You say with a breathy chuckle. He gives you a lazy smirk. "You won't hear me complaining pretty girl" he says as his hand grips his cock through his shorts.

You stand removing your panties before straddling his thigh. His hands grip your hips giving them a reassuring squeeze. You rock your hips gently letting out a whimper as you move. Wally's eyes are locked on your pussy as your wetness covers the top of his thigh. He flexes his thigh making you moan at the friction it applies to your clit. His cock jumps at the cry out chest heaving. "Can I take this off of you?" he asks as his hands grip the cup of your bra. You nod as you rock back and forth. His hands reach around undoing your bra and letting it slide off your body tossing it aside. He leans forward taking your nipple into his mouth flicking it with his tongue and taking it between his teeth. You let out a hiss at the pain mixed with pleasure.

"Baby, I need to be inside of you. Please. I need to feel you wrapped around me." Wally begs you his cock feeling painfully hard in his shorts. You slowly slide off his thigh. "I wanna ride you." you say sliding your hand into the waistband of his shorts pulling them off. "Yeah whatever you want pretty girl." he pants as his cock smacks his stomach. You guide him to lay on the couch and straddle his hips. You grab his cock smirking at the groan that leaves his mouth. You slowly slide his tip up and down your pussy until you get impatient and sink slowly on to him. You whine as he grunts out "Fuck baby you feel so good."

You grind your hips down on him, your hands resting on his chest. You lift yourself taking him almost all the way out before slamming yourself back down. The air leaving your lungs at how deep he feels. You sit there loving how full you feel until he whimpers "You have to move, please." You smile down at him "You sound really pretty begging for me Wally." You fuck yourself on him, scratching his abdomen as you do. Wally notices your slowing and grabs your hips holding them still. "You gonna let me take over now?" he lifts his hips causing you to cry out. "Yes, please fuck me Wally." He thrusts his hips up into you at a bruising pace, telling you how pretty you are and how good you feel.

You mumble out incoherent sentences brain short-circuiting. He reaches down rubbing your clit as he fucks you harder somehow. You are fall forward onto his chest not being able to hold yourself up any longer. He takes the new position to his advantage fucking up into you and holding you tightly to him. "Wally, fuck it's to much. I can't." You whine into his ear. "You can take it pretty girl just let go for me. I've got you." His raspy voice brings you closer to the edge. "Gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me ruin you Baby?" He pants in your ear as you whimper out a yes. His speed picks up pushing you over the edge screaming "WALLY." as you cum around him. He thrust a few more times hips stuttering as he fills you full of him.

You lay there together catching your breath his cock softening inside of you. He grabs his letterman from the floor draping it over your back, running his hand soothingly over your hair. He places gentle kisses over any skin he can reach allowing you to recover. He glances down at you and sees you drooling on his chest asleep his cock still nestled in you. He looks down at you in awe and settles back falling asleep dreaming of you.

Longing - JJ Maybank x reader

Summary : JJ Maybank discovers your secret, which makes him confess his feelings. (wc:2.1K)

Contents : fluff, angst, mentions of sex, alcohol

(this is kinda shitty but i feel like i need to write to get some new ideas so here we go)

GIF by jjmayday

"Silent treatment? Seriously ?" JJ asked you, wincing as you were cleaning his wounds.

You didn't answer, he didn't deserve it. Instead, you just pressed the cleansing pad on his bare skin a bit harder than before.

"Jesus, if you wanted to kill me you could've just let him finish !" he complained as he leaned on the sink, his hands gripped on it.

"Shut up," you finally told him as you couldn't prevent your eyes from rolling. "If you had listened to me, you would still be at the Boneyard."

JJ has never hidden his protective side over you. He's always been protective, even when you were in primary school. As time went by, the blonde boy realized he liked you but it took time for him to accept and deal with it, because he was obviously aware of the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule and he intended on respecting it. As for you, you've always had a crush on JJ Maybank but, as time flew, you came to terms with the fact that nothing would happen between the two of you and that you were meant to remain two close friends, as you have always been.

"Course, but if not me who's gonna make Rafe Cameron shutting the hell up ?" he huffed, anger coming back as he thought of the boy.

You sighed, throwing the cleansing pad in the trash can of John B's bathroom as you got up from the toilet. "He's a dick, J. We all know everything that comes out from his mouth is bullshit, you shouldn't let him ruin your party."

"You didn't hear what he said."

You folded your arms. "Tell me," you told him, not really interested but you asked him anyway so he could exteriorize his anger.

"Just some shit about you and Kie," he lied, scratching the temple of his face and avoiding your eyes.

You sighed, kind of flattered by the way he couldn't let anyone talk shit about you. You wouldn't admit it not even to yourself, but the heat you felt on your cheeks was only the reflection of the feeling brought into your stomach. You took his chin in your hand, making him look at you.

"Stop ruining your parties for Rafe Cameron," you told him, more as a command than as a request.

JJ nodded silently, nervously biting his lip. Rafe did not mention Kie, at least not tonight. However, he did mention something about you, something that only a few people knew about. The boy tried to wipe the thought out of his mind as you proposed him to finish the party you've previously left on the porch of the Chateau, with two cold beers that just came out of the fridge.

"Volvo or Mercedes?" you asked JJ, playing some dumb games while you were waiting for Pope, Kiara and John B to come back from the party.

His brows furrowed. "Ford."

"Pick one out of the two for God Sake," you rolled your eyes.

"Volvo then."

"Volvo is good," you agreed.

"Best spider-man?" JJ asked.

"Tom Holland," you answered, laughing as you saw your blonde friend tilting his head back, stunned. "What?"

"You should be ashamed, YN. I mean it," he joked.

"Shut up," you told him, smacking his arm and making him drop his can of beer on his t-shirt. "Shit," you muttered, getting up from the sofa. "Hold on a sec."

JJ, half drunk and not giving a single fuck of his t-shirt, just took it off, finishing the rest of his beer. As you were looking for another item of cloth for your friend in the spare room, your phone buzzed on the sofa, which made JJ startling as he felt the slight vibrations of your phone upon his body.

"Y/N, your phone!" JJ called out, not wanting to invade your personal space by looking at the notification (despite longing to do it).

As the boy did not hear any response coming from you, his eyes slid to your screen's phone. It was a text from an unknown number:

I kinda miss you

JJ's brows furrowed instantly, doubts filling the entireness of his body. He remembered Rafe's words, trying to piece everything together. Your phone buzzed a second time, this time it was a text from Kiara.

Where the hell have you and JJ been, cant find you

Before he could even finish reading Kie's text, you were back with a clean t-shirt and a new can of beer. "I'm sorry J," you mumbled as you handed him the t-shirt and the can.

"Thanks."

You took your phone and read Kiara's text. "Oh," you laughed lightly, "they just realized we were gone. It's about time, it's been like what, half an hour?"

You texted Kiara back letting her know that you were waiting for them at the Chateau. You then clicked on the second notification and JJ immediately saw your features changing.

"Is something wrong?" JJ asked, trying to remain as casual as ever.

You quickly shoved your phone in your back pocket, not taking care of answering the second text.

"Nope," you sighed, collapsing on the sofa next to JJ. "Everything's fine."

He nodded, knowing for a fact that something was wrong. Maybe not with you, but with him.

---

As you felt the water of the marsh meeting your body, you thought that there was no better way to spend your day than like you were exactly doing: a full day on the HMS pogue, followed by a night at the chateau where your friends and you could enjoy the heat of the Northern Carolina's summer.

Yet, JJ wasn't in such a good mood as you were. He couldn't get what happened last Saturday out of his head. Everyone noticed his change of attitude, but as soon someone wanted to start discussing the topic, he would tell you to piss off and that he was fine. The truth was that he realized he had no idea of what would be his reaction the day you would bring a boy to your friends so they could meet him. You already flirted with some guys during parties while he was there, but you never went far with any of those guys. All the pogues knew that you had kissed 2 boys in your whole lifetime, and every time it was just a stupid fling that JJ could bear with but the text you've received messed his head up. I kinda miss you. This would mean that you've already seen this person, and that something serious happened for you to delete the number. It also meant that the thing you've had with this person was serious enough for him to text you that he missed you.

"What are you thinking about?" Kie asked JJ, putting him out of his thoughts.

"Just thinking about the next surfboard im gonna buy," he lied.

"Liar," she answered, sitting on the edge of the boat as you were trying to drown John B with the help of Pope. "You don't wanna talk, fine. But don't talk bullshit at least," she went on, not on an aggressive tone as JJ would have expected it.

He sighed. Fuck, he just told himself. "I'm worried about Y/N," he admitted. "I've seen a text from someone on her phone that said he missed her. She never talked to us about anyone, so I'm just wondering what's going on."

That wasn't a lie: you've never said anything about anyone. They were your best friends and you didn't say a single word about someone who could potentially miss you.

"Maybe we should let her some time to do so," she simply said as you got onto the boat followed by John B and Pope.

"I'm starving," Pope admitted, taking the beer you were handing him.

"Same," you said as you were checking your phone, rolling your eyes as you were reading something.

"What is it?" John B asked you as he had noticed your eyes roll that went almost to the back of your head.

"Nothing important," you assured him, placing your phone back in your backpack. "Why don't we go back at the chateau and order some pizzas? I can practically hear Pope's stomach from here," you joked, smacking slightly at Pope's belly.

---

You cursed yourself as you remembered that the terrible headache that prevented you from falling asleep was probably due to the fact that you didn't put on any sunscreen today. You checked the time on your phone: 4:11 AM. For God Sake, you mumbled as you got up from the couch to go out and smoke. As you opened the door, you found JJ sitting on one of the steps.

"Can't sleep?"

"I think i'm the only person on this planet who can't sleep when she smokes a blunt," you snorted slightly, sitting down next to your friend.

The weather was nice. Not too cold, not too hot, it was perfect. The peaceful silence of the marsh would have allowed anyone to fall asleep, but not you and JJ. Ironically, the reasons why both of you couldn't sleep were closely related.

"So, what's wrong with you?" you asked him bluntly as you attempted to light up your cigarette.

"What?" JJ exclaimed, taken aback.

His reaction drew a slight smile out of you. "You're acting weird, JJ Maybank."

"I'm not," he asserted, taking the cigarette out of your hands to take a drag of it.

"You are," you told him as you took back your cigarette.

He sighed and then got up. "Good night, Y/N."

"You're not going anywhere. Sit," you said as you grabbed his wrist to prevent him from getting inside.

"How did Rafe know that you have a birthmark behind your left ear?"

You froze, this time you were the one taken aback by his question. You sighed, letting go of JJ's wrist, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Tell me-"

"Because Rafe has a lot of bitches and I've been seeing one of them for a while. But we're done, I told him to piss off," you simply told him.

If JJ were to be very honest, he would have bet everything he had on you banging Rafe Cameron behind your friends' backs. He was slightly relieved that you had no close ties to the elder Cameron, but hearing you say in person that you had a relationship with someone still had the effect of a sharp knife through his whole body.

"Is it why you're acting so weird? Because Rafe told you about my birthmark?" you asked him.

"I also read the text," he confessed, sitting down next to you.

You frown at him.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done it. But I did, and it messed my head up even more."

You huffed, getting up and stubbing out your cigarette on the grass. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?" you asked, as you were getting angrier as every second went by. "You're supposed to be my friend-"

"I'm done being your damn friend while you're banging on kooks," he hissed, getting up and attempting to get to the twinkie. Yet, you prevented him from it by standing in front of him.

"Watch your fucking mouth dude," you warned him.

"Just let me the fuck alone-"

"Why are you-"

"Jesus Y/N I like you! Apparently you're fucking blind but please tell me you're not deaf," JJ yelled, regretting it instantly as he realized what he had just told you and considering that it was 4 in the morning.

You were caught off guard. You were so shocked that your thoughts took over your entire body, and it took you a moment to respond to what JJ had just told you.

"What the hell?" was all you found to say.

JJ knew very well that there was a risk that he would break your friendship by telling you, but there was no turning back. "Look, I just need to have a walk to clear my head and then you can lecture me on the no pogue on pogue macking rule," he assured as he walked by you, giving up on the twinkie idea.

You stayed still, unable to move. When you saw JJ come back as the sun was starting to rise, you knew you had remained there for a long time.

"I don't intend to lecture you," you said as he was about to speak.

"What?"

His innocence drew a smile out of you. "I'm actually planning to break the rule if you're willing to break it with me, so I don't think I'm in a position to lecture you," you told him.

You noticed his features change, then a smile.

He didn't answer anything but rushed towards you, took your face in his hands and firmly pulled your body against his as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes and inhale deeply as if you were trying to immortalize the moment.

"You could've said that you didn't care about the damn rule sooner," he joked before kissing you again.

come into my bedroom

description. you and JOAQUÍN TORRES take a week long vacation to the beach together. just a week on the coast, spending time in each other's bubble, without falling for each other ... probably. visuals

includes. coworkers to friends to lovers, SMUT 18+ MDNI, reader has been kept as ambiguous as possible (hair type, skin color, body type, place of birth, etc), reader is able to tan, the location is ambiguous, slight spoilers for brave new world, takes place after bnw, protected p n v sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom! joaquín, reader is called "baby" a couple of times

wc. 12.3k+

a/n: title from champagne coast by blood orange. i tried to keep where they vacationed as ambiguous as possible, but it's definitely at least a little bit obvious. for my bsf who recently got back from miami. thanks to @luckypunklemonade for beta reading :D

You’re drunk. 

No, you’re not drunk. You’re too drunk, inching towards shitfaced. You’re still here, at least here enough to walk beside Joaquín down the street towards your hotel, but you’re not really here. You know you’re not exactly walking in a straight line, and you know where you’re heading, but you don’t know how long you’ve been walking. You could’ve left the club five minutes or 50 minutes ago. 

You weren’t going to get this drunk. Honest. You and Joaquín were just going to go out, have a few drinks, and go back to your separate rooms. 

But the music was good, and the drinks were good, and the people were good, and suddenly you and Joaquín are drunk and navigating your way down the street. Well, he’s navigating your way. You’re just trying to keep up with his long strides. 

He walks a little in front of you the entire time, slightly more rigid, and a little less drunk than you are. You’ll probably be at his level in another half hour, that is if you get something in your stomach by then. Every so often, he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still there. You thought about hooking a hand around his elbow to keep him close, but the thought entered your mind and left before you could act on it. 

There’s not much small talk happening, but you don’t mind it that way. You’re focused on making your feet pick up and land one (mostly) in front of the other. Actually, you’re focused on walking and finding an open food spot on the way. 

One part is going fine, the walking part, but you’re still blearily searching for something to eat. You pass bars and closed businesses, restaurants that require reservations weeks in advance, one of them you think you and Joaquín actually have a table at later this week, but nothing quick and greasy. Which is exactly what you need before calling it a night. 

Joaquín calls your name and you hum. 

“You up for stopping in right here?” He points to the side and you look around his wide shoulders to find your saving grace. It’s like he read your mind, or maybe you’d been audible harping on about wanting something to eat the entire time. Right now, either seems plausible. 

Either way, you nod and let Joaquín hold the door open for you. 

You and Joaquín end up sitting across from each other at a tiny outdoor metal table. With the wind blowing against your skin as you’re sipping freezing cold water from a to-go cup, you finally realize how hot you’ve been this entire time. You lift your skirt up a bit to press your thigh against the cool metal and a sigh pushes out front your lips. Your eyes fall shut as you just sit in the moment. 

“You still drunk?” Joaquín speaks from across the table. 

You open your eyes and destroy your brief peace to glare at him as you wrap your lips around your straw. “What do you think?” you ask him only when the cool liquid has slid down your throat. 

He laughs. “First night here and you’ve already gotten shitfaced.” He shakes his head as if he’s ashamed of you, but the playful glint in his eyes keeps you at ease. 

“It’s your fault!” you accuse. “You’re the one who made friends with that couple. They kept buying us drinks.” 

Joaquín throws his hands out to the side in a surrender. “I’m not going to say no to free drinks. Don’t blame me!”

He’s right. Even if he wasn’t, you aren’t in the arguing mood anymore. You would rather finish the greasy taco sitting limp in your hands. And you do.  

You’re not being very attractive about it, though, you can tell from the way the juice slides down your fingers and around your mouth, but that’s not really the point to all of this. 

Besides, you and Joaquín are just coworkers and friends. Just two coworkers/friends on vacation together. Sitting across from each other in front of a taco spot, fighting for sobriety as you occasionally lock eyes between large bites. There’s no reason for you to be attractively drunk eating when you’re only with your coworker/friend. 

You finish the last bite, wipe around your mouth with a crumpled napkin and throw it onto your empty tray, looking up to find Joaquín already looking at you. He has this look on his face, nothing different from the one he usually wears—soft eyes and a softer smile—but it feels different this time. Maybe it’s the city lighting and your drunkenness that’s skewing the meaning. You’re going to blame both factors for the flutter in your heart, too.

Neither of you say anything for a moment and in that moment, a thought flashes across your mind. It’s quick and fleeting, but still strong enough to evoke a reaction. Just a thought of you leaning over this small table and pressing your lips to Joaquín’s. And the thought was truly fleeting, but you bring it back and sit in it to imagine how he would reciprocate with his hands on your lower back, big palms resting on the strip of skin between your top and skirt, and he would taste like lime and alcohol and when you pulled away he would have a look almost identical to this one on his face. 

Joaquín’s eyebrows push together, skewing the soft look he wore before and knocking you out of your drunken trance. 

“What’s that look?” he asks. 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “What look?”

His gaze lingers for a moment, but then he licks his lips and cleans up his area. “You think you’re sober enough to walk back now?” 

You scoff and attempt to make a point by quickly standing to your feet. When you wobble, it’s because your shoe didn’t land right on the concrete. Honest!

You have a crush on Joaquín. 

You don’t know why you’re realizing it here and now—laying in a hotel bed on vacation first thing in the morning. You don’t even know how long this crush has been here, but you know for sure you have a crush on Joaquín Torres, your partner/coworker/friend. 

You thought your little image from last night was fleeting, nothing but a drunken thought that you let yourself imagine for less than a minute, but it proved to be way more than that because when you got back to your room, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

As you took your makeup off, you thought about Joaquín waiting in your room for you to finish, snuggled under the blankets and scrolling through the channels on the TV until you came out of the bathroom in his shirt. As you climbed in the shower you imagined him standing at the sink brushing his teeth and humming that song he’s always singing but you never ask the name of. As you finally climbed into bed and clicked the lights off, you imagined fighting for covers with him and sleepily talking about your plans for the next day. 

It was so domestic and loving and absolutely sickening and unexpected. 

Well, maybe you should have expected it. At least a little. 

Joaquín is kind of the perfect guy. Everyone in your life made sure you were aware of it. He was funny, attractive, hard working, and easy to get along with. Even his flaws—his incessant nature and occasional annoyance for one—was quickly reworked as lovable in your head. 

You struggled with falling asleep for at least a half hour last night, and as soon as you knocked out, you were out. You might not have remembered your dreams but you knew deep in your mind and body that he was there. 

Just as he is here now, standing in front of you early  in the morning, wearing a bright smile and an athletic set. 

“No,” you sternly shut him down before he can even say anything. 

Joaquín’s jaw drops and he wears a mixture of shock and humor. “C’mon, you didn’t even let me say anything.”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Torres. I’m not going to some ‘sick workout class’ when we’re supposed to be on vacation.” 

“Oh, so we’re on last name basis again?” He crosses his arms over his chests and widens his stance. “I thought we moved past that.” 

“If you ask me to come with you then we’re back to last name basis, yeah.” 

He pouts and it’s so stupidly cute that you want to slam the door in his face. “Don’t let the hangover speak for you. I know you secretly wanna come workout with me.” 

You squint at him accusingly, leaning into the doorframe. “‘m not hungover.” 

“Uh-huh. How’s the headache?” He’s obviously not buying your shit.

“I don’t have a headache.” Bullshit and you both know it. 

“How’d you sleep?” He asks you instead, this time lacking any suspense. For a moment, he seems like he’s actually wondering how you slept. 

“Like a baby.”

“Then that means you should be energized enough to go for a workout. It won’t be bad. It’s only an hour.” 

You shake your head. “That’s an hour that I could be sleeping.” 

“And basically waste the whole day away? That doesn’t sound like the partner I know and love.”

You don’t let your mind linger on that word, especially when you know he doesn’t mean it like that. But still, knowing that Joaquín has some sort of love for you makes your chest feel all airy and glittery. 

“Yeah because that partner isn’t here right now. We’re on vacation.” 

Joaquín doesn’t respond. Not verbally at least. Instead, he tilts his head and fully pouts, lips pushed out and eyes big. He’s not backing down and truthfully, it might be better for you just to say yes and halfass the entire session. 

Finally, he reasons with you. “I’ll buy you a smoothie afterwards. Whatever overpriced shit you want. Fair?” 

Fair enough. 

Compared to what you’re used to, the workout is quick, but it’s certainly not painless. The instructor, some woman with much more energy than you’re willing to exert on vacation, seemed to find pleasure in kicking your asses. For a brief moment there when you were catching your breath and wiping your forehead on a towel, you wondered if she could be some big and bad super villain hiding in plain sight. That would explain the inhuman stamina, and the almost eerie cheery personality, but other than that your theory didn’t make much sense. And even if it did, you were on vacation. Now wasn’t the time to seek out trouble that wasn’t presenting itself. 

The only thing that pushed you through the entire thing was looking over at Joaquín, one because of how attractive he looked with sweat glistening along his tanned skin, and two because you refused to let him show you up, even if the workout was his idea. 

You will admit, though, that every time he lifted his shirt to wipe his forehead, your knees did feel just a little weaker and your last rep in a set was not nearly as strong as it could’ve been when you heard him grunting beside you. 

You couldn’t understand it. You and Joaquín workout together all the time. You train together, sometimes with Isaiah and Sam, sometimes with friends of friends, sometimes with just each other. You’re used to seeing him sweat, you’re used to hearing his grunts and breaths, you’re used to all of it. But something about all of this happening now is making you lose your mind. 

As soon as the class ended, relief entered your entire body. 

The relief certainly didn’t last for long, though. 

Since you did what Joaquín wanted to do that morning, he did what you wanted to do right after. Before you could even really think about it, you happily suggested sunbathing on the beach until you were too hot or hungry to continue, whichever came first. 

It wasn’t until Joaquín slyly grinned and sang your name that you realized what you signed up for. 

“You tryna see me shirtless?” he teased at the time. And you rolled your eyes and called him a freak and continued walking down the hall towards your rooms, but as soon as you were behind the closed door you were digging into your suitcase to find the cutest swimsuit you brought. 

Not that you were trying to impress Joaquín or anything. 

As soon as your bare toes are sinking into warm sand, you slowly feel yourself relax. Slowly. 

Laying on your back in a swimsuit that was a nice mix between cute and attractive, your eyes closed, your ears full of a playlist you made just for this occasion, the sun radiating down on your skin. It’s easy to forget everything laying just like that. The breeze cools your skin as soon as you get too warm, the sun heats you back up as soon as you get too cold. Absolutely nothing to worry about except how long you’ve been laying on one side and when you should flip over. 

Absolutely no stressors. 

Until Joaquín speaks. 

“Do me a favor and get my back?” 

You peek an eye open and lift your sunglasses up to see Joaquín standing next to you, holding out a bottle of sunscreen. 

You don’t mean to hesitate, but you still do. It takes a moment to process his question, and it takes another moment to find an answer, even though the clear one is yes. If he wasn’t standing there without a shirt, wearing forest green trunks that hung low on his hips, and his skin wasn’t glistening in the daylight, it wouldn’t have taken nearly half the time to help him out. 

“What would you do without me?” You try not to let your voice falter while you watch him massage sunscreen onto his chest, but you’re sure the little dip at the end of your sentence was noticeable. 

Joaquín just tilts his head and tosses the bottle into your lap.  

It’s not awkward. At least you don’t think it’s awkward. You rub the sunscreen on Joaquín’s skin as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the sturdiness of his muscles beneath your hand. You know how fit he is, it’s impossible for you not to know since you’ve been working with him for a while now. But knowing and knowing are two different things. 

Seeing is not the same as feeling. 

Feeling his muscles as you work them beneath your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, grazing your hand lightly over the scars littering his skin, only lingering for a second on the life altering scar that trails down from the side of his neck to his shoulder. You try not to touch it too much. He hasn’t talked to you much about the accident, not since you visited the hospital with high quality food instead of flowers for him. Even then, he joked around it, even if you saw sorrow in his eyes like you’d never seen Joaquín wear before. 

You rubbed the sunscreen down his back and finished above the waistband of his trunks. Not even a second later did he look over his shoulder and down at you through a squint. “Now let me do you,” he urged without leaving much room for argument. 

Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t make room. 

You shook your head. “‘m okay, I already got it.” 

Joaquín turns around to face you completely. He laughs through a quick puff of air, his lips pulled up at the corners. “Barely. I saw you struggling over there. C’mon, let me top it off for you.” 

His hands take the sunscreen bottle from you, but he doesn’t put any in his palm. Not yet. For now, he stares at you, eyebrows lifted, waiting for you to give him the final answer. 

You turn around, moving whatever needs to be moved to give him basically full reign over your back. 

The first touch makes you jump, even if you were expecting it. You hear him quietly apologize under his breath, and you quietly brush it off, but you aren’t sure if your response was heard or if it was carried off with the wind. 

He continues in silence. 

You’ve had Joaquín’s hands on you before. A hand clasped in yours to pull you up, a touch fixing your posture when he was showing you a new trick Isaiah taught him before, a finger jabbed into your side when he walked past you. But again, this is much different. 

Having Joaquín’s bare hands on your bare back makes you tense up, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He rubs with a lot more attention to detail than you did; he reaches beneath the straps of your top with curt permission, and even asks if he can get the backs of your arms too. 

By the time he finishes, you’ve started to relax just a bit, to the point where the expected disappearance of his hand on your back feels unwanted. Joaquín’s hands are big and soothing, you could do with them on your skin for the rest of your life. 

Of course, you don’t tell him that. Not just because it would be completely inappropriate, but because he would never let you live it down. He would go the lengths to change his phone contact to Joaquín “best hands there ever were” Torres. 

Which is just a step below Joaquín “best co-worker there ever was” Torres. 

Somehow, you manage to make it through the rest of the beach day without much trouble. You tan until you don’t think you could tan anymore. Joaquín lays next to you most of the time, besides when he began to feel fidgety and he ran to grab both of you drinks, and pre-cut fruit for you, as an excuse to stretch his legs. You used the few minutes of solitude to text your group chat about the agony you accidentally put yourself into. Agony that was only made worse by Joaquín coming back with two drinks in one hand, fruit still in its rind in the other, and his newly tanned skin glistening from sweat in the sunlight. 

Shortly after, you had to leave and take a cold shower to get your head on straight. 

You think you’re doing pretty good at ignoring your feelings. You know you have a crush on him, but acting on it would change nearly too much, and a lot in your lives—his especially—has already changed. It’s not a leap you think you’re ready to make yet, so you’ve been ignoring your feelings. 

Over the course of the past couple of days, you and Joaquín have been spending your time doing every relaxing thing you could think of. Decompressing at that same club from the first night, but leaving as soon as the crowd proved to be very different from before—more rowdy for the hell of it and less generous in general. Eating at trendy, overrated lunch spots, or underrated hole-in-the-wall dinner spots. Spending a little too much money on new clothes but enabling each other anyway, because the shirt might look similar to another one that you already have but that shirt back home wasn’t that shirt there in your hands, so you needed it. 

There were just two nights left and then you would have to pack all your stuff, somehow fit in more new clothes than you anticipated, and return to the real world. One that entailed mission debriefs and learning how to work new tech. The only thing you were looking forward to about the real world was Sam, since he happened to be a natural barrier between you and Joaquín. It’ll be hard to focus on how badly you wanted to be underneath the Falcon whenever Captain America was in the vicinity providing tasks that required your full attention. 

But that is days away. For now, you’re going to try and enjoy the remainder of your all too quick vacation as much as possible. Even though you’re becoming more and more tense as you go on, a tension that your fingers beneath your panties hasn’t been able to fix yet. 

You didn’t think your behavior was noticeable, but Joaquín notices more than you thought. 

The two of you are walking side by side down the boardwalk. You’ve been fairly silent throughout, but not for any particular reason. Silence made sense to you, there wasn’t much to talk about right now. 

Apparently, Joaquín felt different. 

“What’s up with you?”

You furrow your eyebrows, quickly trying to figure out if you did something wrong between the walk from your hotel to the walk at the start of the boardwalk. Coming up short, you ask for clarification. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean why’re you so tense? Isn’t this relaxing for you?”

Yeah, this is relaxing for you. Walking side by side, letting the beach breeze blow your dress in the wind. Showered, fed, at the end of your vacation, this moment you exist in is like heaven. It’s a little too much like heaven, a perfect plane where the guy you’ve been crushing on is wearing a button up with the first two buttons undone so you can see the fresh tan he has and the gold glint of the chain he wears instead of his dog tags. 

It’s hard to relax when right beside you is someone you’ve wanted so badly, and he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“I’m not tense,” you finally respond. Although it’s a lie. 

“You so are,” Joaquín counters, “let me show you what you look like walking around here.” He takes a few quick strides ahead of you, and then pulls his shoulders up to his ears, straightens his spine, and walks with a little too much purpose. He looks odd and menacing. And definitely not like you. 

You tell him as such. 

He turns around to face you, grinning and walking backwards. “Okay I did take some creative liberties there, but you do look tense.” He turns back around and slows until he returns to a stride right beside you again. “What’s wrong? Do you wanna do something else?”

You shake your head. “No. This is fine. I like doing this.” 

Joaquín takes a moment and you see him look down at you from the corner of your eye. “Then what’s up? Anything you wanna get off your chest?” 

God, you should just tell him the truth. Well, not the full truth. 

Joaquín is chill personified. If you told him that you’re wound up sexually, he would likely make a joke about it, then brush it off and avoid asking you about it again. Friend to friend, you could just let off some steam—verbally!, although the other option is much more preferable—and then hopefully feel better. 

But just imagining yourself saying those words makes you tense even more and you have nothing to do but shake the thought out of your mind completely. 

“No. ‘m okay. I was just … thinking. But not anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second and you don’t know if he believes your lie. But he moves past it. He points to an ice cream shop to your right, and you swerve for the window. 

You and Joaquín end up sitting side by side on the beach, willingly letting sand press into your nice clothes but neither of you care much. You have a dinner reservation soon, and you’ve just been killing time—and also your appetite, but you and Joaquín both swore to eat dinner. Even if you’re devouring ice cream cones. Truthfully, this is a perfect way to end your night, sitting by your partner's side, letting the world exist around you both. 

The breeze blows against your skin. You and Joaquín sit with your bare toes digging into the sand, shoes having been discarded to the side, your shoulders close enough to brush against the other if either of you move. You’re looking off at the ocean, watching people enjoy the evening air around you both as you sit in a moment of stillness. There’s paragliders, a few jet skis, some boats, and a large cruise ship sailing into the port. 

Joaquín points off at the ship with the hand not holding his waffle cone.

“We should cruise for our next vacation.”

You turn to face him, tilting your head to the side. “Our next vacation?”

Joaquín nods. “Yeah. We should make this a regular thing. You know we work well together.” 

That you do. You grin and knock your shoulder into his.  “Let’s hope Sam doesn’t start feeling left out.”

Joaquín laughs with a quick exhale through his nose. “He’s definitely having the time of his life back home.” 

You’re unable to stop yourself from grinning as you imagine it—Sam working back home, likely enjoying the rare lull in the terror that the three of you have been fighting and will continue fighting. “He’s probably blasting Marvin Gaye over the speakers in the office.” 

This gets a real laugh from Joaquín, likely because he, too, can see it perfectly. 

Your laughter dies down and for a few moments, you and Joaquín sit in comfortable silence. 

Then, “You been having fun?” 

You hum. “Yeah. It’s nice not having to deal with—” you gesture vaguely in the air and Joaquín nods beside you. “Especially after everything.” You don’t say it exactly, but you know Joaquín still understands you. He knows you’re talking about his accident. 

You weren’t even the one in danger, having stayed grounded on the ship, but the horrors still settle deep in your heart some nights. Things are repaired, or currently being repaired in the case of D.C, but everything still feels so fragile to you sometimes. 

Which is why you’re so glad to be here with him at your side, reminding you that he’s okay. Everything’s okay. 

Joaquín takes a breath as if he’s about to speak. You turn to look at him. He’s staring off at the sunset, his face mostly stoic except for a slight twitch in his eyes, a flare of his nostrils, and his jaw clenching. “For a moment there when I was falling out of the sky, and when I could barely move my body on my own in the hospital I was worried that I wouldn’t get the chance to see places like this again. To … you know…” he hesitates and you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep going if he doesn’t want to. You and Joaquín have avoided talking about the day his heart stopped, and you don’t have to start now. But then he inhales through his teeth and continues. “To see home.” 

Your breath hitches and your eyes sting. Without thinking too much about it, you scoot closer into Joaquín’s side, tilting your head and resting it on his shoulder. Immediately upon contact, Joaquín wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you fully into his side. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Joaquín.” 

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he says your name at the end, echoing you but somehow sounding more earnest. More meaningful. 

He places a kiss on the top of your head and in that moment you decide you could stay here just like this for the rest of your life. It all settles in your body at one time, the realization that you want Joaquín, you’ve known that for a while, but you want more than his body. 

You want Joaquín Torres in his entirety. 

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” he continues, “Is that why you’ve been tense? Because I promise I’m okay. It was scary for a bit but my heart’s fine and I feel fine physically—”

“No. It’s not that, Joaquín. I promise I was just a little tense but I’m good now, too.”

He nods once. “Okay.” He pulls his phone out and checks the time. He doesn’t say anything for a while as if he doesn’t want to disrupt the energy, but he speaks eventually. “If we wanna make our reservation we gotta leave now.” 

He stands to his feet and puts a hand out for you to grab. You take a moment to look at the sun setting and to finish the rest of your ice cream in one bite, then you take another moment to look at him. With resolution, you place your hand in Joaquín’s and let him pull you to your feet. 

Yeah, ignoring your feelings isn’t working anymore. 

It’s not like you’re exactly able to ignore how bad you want Joaquín when you’re at dinner with him, sitting in such an intimate setting—sat at a small table tucked in the corner of the restaurant next to a window looking out on the street, his tan skin lit by candlelight and ambient low lighting around the both of you. 

Having just come from the beach, the two of you are still wearing the same outfits (now without as many grains of sand as possible), meaning you have an even better view of Joaquín’s chest and the chain sitting right below his collarbones. He looks so nice and put together—his curls out more than you’ve ever seen them before, his face a little unshaven and adding an older look to him. 

God, he’s so pretty, it’s impossible for you not to think so. Not when you’re faced with him like this. 

Joaquín’s looking at the menu, acting like he didn’t look at it on his phone two hours ago. You’re holding the menu open, acting like you’re still deciding between two options, when really you’re just trying to decide if you should make a move or not. 

When Joaquín looks up, you quickly look down, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting as you stare at words that aren’t processing.  

Joaquín calls your name and you hum without lifting your eyes. When he doesn’t say anything immediately, you glance up. Not only is he already looking at you, but he’s looking at you with a certain look in his eyes. Infatuation, admiration, something else that you don’t wanna name, for it feels like too much of a jump.

“What?” you ask, a shy grin splitting your face open as your skin starts to warm. 

Joaquín shrugs like he’s going to say the most casual thing ever. Instead, he tells you, “Nothing. I just wanted to tell you how pretty you look.”

Oh my godddd. 

What are you supposed to say to that? Everything thus far on this vacation has been widely platonic, and anything crossing that barrier has been nothing but a hopeful figment of your imagination. But his words, paired with the way they were delivered, feels like a step towards a future you want to live in. 

But maybe you’re overthinking it. Joaquín is honest and earnest when he wants to be and maybe now is one of those moments. 

You wrap your hand around your glass of ice water and bring it to your lips, pausing just long enough to respond. “What is it? The tan?”

Joaquín nods but that look in his eyes is still there. Chocolate brown dances across your figure before settling back on your own eyes. “Yeah … among other things. The tan and the color of your dress,” a bright colored fabric that hung loosely over your body and dipped around your back, you chose it especially because you knew it would look good on your skin, “and just you.” 

You gulp down water, trying to contain yourself. 

“Thanks, Joaquín,” you finally respond, trying to remain as casual as possible. “You look good, too.” 

Joaquín grins and you can see the man you’re used to coming back to himself. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and dusts off invisible particles. “I clean up well don’t I?”

You halfheartedly roll your eyes and return back to the menu. That interaction has already been catalogued for you to hyper analyze in the shower later. 

You thought that interaction was mind boggling, but the one you find yourself in later is ten times worse. 

You’ve both steadily worked through your plates, giggling and laughing about any and everything you could think of. The waiter mentioned the option of drinks at one point, and you looked to Joaquín for his reaction, wanting to see if that’s how the night was going to go. Not exactly as drunk as you were the first night, but at least a little buzz. When Joaquín politely shook his head, you did the same, and continued to sip your water instead. 

You do, however, decide to split two desserts. 

“Can I say something?” Joaquín speaks whenever he scrapes his fork across the decadent chocolate dessert sitting in the center of the table. 

You hum, grabbing a forkful of the fresher, citrus dessert instead. “Depends. How stupid is it gonna be?”

“Um … let me say it and then we can decide.”

You sit back in your seat, thereby giving him the floor. 

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he goes to respond. “I’m shocked that we’ve been together every day and night of this trip.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What d’you mean?”

“Like we haven’t … been with other people.”

His words shock you. “Is that what you think of me, Joaquín?” 

You don’t feel upset, or particularly offended. You’re just a little confused on why Joaquín has been thinking about your sex life while the two of you have been on vacation together. Sure, you’ve been thinking of the same thing, but his sex life hasn’t exactly crossed your mind. Besides whenever you pictured the two of your sex lives merging into one. 

But now that he’s presented the idea, you, too, are shocked that things have been contained to just the two of you this entire week. It’s not that you expected Joaquín to sleep around, you actually didn’t know what to expect when it came to his dating life. You did know that Joaquín was attractive and people other than yourself thought so, and he obviously knew it as well, but it’s unexpected that you didn’t see him intentionally ogling at least one other person on your nights out. 

You don’t know why he would think the same of you, though. 

“No!” he’s quick to defend himself, “But I wouldn’t judge you if that’s how you wanted to spend your vacation. I mean I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You’re digging yourself further and further into a hole, Torres.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I can tell.”

A moment goes by and you sip your water. The air here feels open, but certainly not casual. You feel like you can tell the truth in this intimate atmosphere, and your words would hold intentional weight. 

You take the jump. “I didn’t wanna be with anyone else. I liked being with you.”

Joaquín looks surprised. “Really? So you preferred beach trips and coffee shops and working out over a hot hookup?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been interested in hooking up with anyone else.” 

His eyebrows lift in the center. “Anyone else?”

Fuck. 

It seems you have joined Joaquín in that hole, but you don’t mind being here. It’s about time you did something, right? You don’t bother responding, at least not verbally. Instead, you just look at Joaquín over the rim of your glass, sincerely hoping that he’s starting to understand. 

Before any more progress can be made the waiter comes back with the check and you’re already reaching into your bag for your wallet, verbally chastising Joaquín before he can even reach for the bill. 

Quiet returns to you both during the walk back to your hotel. It feels natural this time, likely because you’re not speaking, but it isn’t silent. Cars against asphalt as they drive down the street beside you, music spilling out of establishments that line the way, the automated voice of the pedestrian crossing pole when Joaquín presses the button for the both of you. There’s not anything being said, but there doesn’t need to be; much is being communicated through the energy radiating off of your body. 

Walking closer to each other than you had ever before, elbows grazing, a lightness to your bodies even if you both indulged a little too much over dinner. Everything just feels so right, even if there’s still an emptiness inside of you. Even if you leave this trip without getting laid, you’ll still feel fulfilled because you and your partner are closer than you’ve ever been before. Though, after existing in this bubble with only him, it’s going to be hard to return to your normal life and let other people in. 

A car honks and skirts to a stop. Before you can even realize what just happened, Joaquín’s already throwing an arm over the front of your torso, his face turned to the car that almost (wrongfully) hit the two of you. He yells something at them and blindly grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him and pushing you to the sidewalk and out of the street. 

He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t hear it. “You good?” he asks at full volume. He stands next to you but still holds onto your hand. 

“Yeah. We’ve been through worse than almost getting floored by a Benz, right?”

He laughs and continues leading the way back to the hotel. 

Your hand stays in his the entire time.

You and Joaquín make it all the way inside of the hotel with your hands still clasped together. They don’t part until an unattended child runs between your bodies, forcing you to separate. 

You end up standing in front of the elevator with the up button pushed. It dings every few seconds, an indicator of its steady descent, but it makes a few stops along the way. While you wait, you lean your shoulder into the wall next to it, crossing your arms over your chest and your legs at the ankle as you look at Joaquín standing across from you. 

He speaks first. “You wanna go out again tonight?  End the week with a bang?”

You shake your head. Your eyes are big, your lips are pulled into a soft smile, your entire expression is soft. Fuck hiding it, you’re done pretending. 

“Nah. I’d rather stay in tonight.”

Joaquín nods and tucks his hands in his front pockets. “Alright. Together or separate?”

“Together.”

His eyebrows lift as if he’s shocked, but there’s a little glint in his eyes. You think he’s starting to catch on. 

“Okay,” he drags the last syllable out and shifts his stance. He clears his throat before he speaks again. “What d’you wanna do?”

The elevator door opens and you and Joaquín stand out of the way to let people come out. As soon as everyone has cleared out, the two of you enter the elevator alone and you push the button to shut the door before anyone else can come around the corner. With the doors closing you turn to face Joaquín to see him already looking at you. 

You smile up at him and he smiles down at you. 

You take a step closer to him and he takes a step closer to you. 

You reach a hand out to his face, hesitating, and then he nods just before he reaches a hand out and places it on your waist. 

And then finally, your lips press against his. 

The first kiss is tentative. It’s testing. Your lips press together, you stay like that for a moment, and then you pull away. The two of you stare at each other, Joaquín’s expression as soft and docile as it always is. You think you’re mirroring him in this moment. 

Then, without any words exchanged, you both move towards each other again. Your heads are tilted and without much trouble at all, your faces slot together nearly perfectly. This kiss is more exploratory. It’s open mouthed, teetering towards a messiness that you’re sure you’ll both fully succumb to by the end of the night. At least, you hope so. 

You don’t have much time, you’ve realized that as soon as the elevator dings the first time to indicate its ascent, therefore you’re trying to get what you can while you can. You throw your arms over Joaquín’s shoulders and hook them around his neck, pulling him down towards you as you tilt yourself up into him. His body curves to engulf yours in his warmth, but he kisses you like he has all the time in the world. 

He kisses you like he means it, like there’s more than one mutually shared goal at the end of this motivating him. 

It’s hard not to give in to the slow and longing way Joaquín kisses you. You don’t even try resisting it at a certain point. Instead, you press your chest up into his and lean up on your toes to get more of him, yet not initiating a change in the pace at all. You like the slow way Joaquín’s lips move against yours. You feel much more this way. 

Your fingers lay across the back of his neck and just as they start to inch up into the faded part of his haircut, the elevator dings and announces your floor. 

You and Joaquín separate with clear hesitance in the movement. The two of you stare at each other, unmoving, just looking in each other’s eyes. His eyes look darker than you’ve ever seen them before. If you got closer, you think you would see his pupils blown out. From here, though, you see his desire in other ways—the flush on his cheeks, the prominence of his chest rising and falling, the hint of your lip products that have rubbed off on his lips. 

The elevator door starts to shut and Joaquín is forced into making the first move. He slots his arm between the doors just before they close and he stays there when they open. He turns to look at you, tilts his head in a beckon, and holds his hand out for you to grab.

The walk to your rooms feels much longer than it usually does. You try to make it go as fast as possible, skittering ahead of Joaquín as fast as your impractical sandals would allow, but you’re trying not to look too eager all the while. Still, when you reach the number you’ve memorized for the week and turn around to look at him, he has a slight smile of amusement on his face. 

You’re already searching into your bag for your key when you ask, “Yours or mine?”

Joaquín reaches around you for the handle to the door without speaking. You watch him press the key card to the sensor and push the door handle down just as you feel your fingers find the piece of plastic. 

“We gave each other one of each when we checked in, remember? Just in case.” comes his unprompted explanation. And now that you’ve been reminded, you do remember. Your key to Joaquín’s room has been sitting on the dresser forgotten the entire week. You know he wouldn’t have done it, not without your explicit consent, but you wish Joaquín had used the key to his advantage once this week. You wish he would have acted on the tension between you both, the tension that you’re finally realizing has been reciprocated this entire time. 

But now it’s happening. There’s no reason to complain when you’re getting what you wanted. 

His hands are on your hips as he leads you into the room, your bag is thrown to the floor and your shoes are kicked off of your feet. Your body is turned at his will, your eyes meet his as he lazily grins  down at you. His tongue flicks out over his lips in a quick and smooth movement, and at a much slower pace, you lean back in to press your lips back to his. 

Joaquín’s hands automatically latch onto your lower back, one warm palm pressed into the thin fabric of your dress and the other settling right on your bare skin in the opening. Meanwhile, you start working on his shirt, popping button after button through the holes. You stop when you’re halfway down, not on your own accord. 

You’re forced to stop when Joaquín slots his hands behind your thighs and he easily lifts you up. You squeal into the kiss on instinct. 

There’s a moment where both of you are grinning against each other’s lips and it just feels so right. It feels incredibly natural to be doing this, to be smiling when you’re kissing Joaquín, even though nearly everything else about this situation isn’t natural for the two of you (your erect nipples rubbing against his chest, your panties stuck to your cunt, the very faint brush of his cock stiff in his pants that you get on the journey up). 

“You’re just showing off,” you half-heartedly chide. 

Joaquín shrugs and walks you back to the bed. “Maybe just a little.” He places you down, kneeling between your legs and finishing off the remaining buttons on his shirt. “You love it, though.”

You don’t admit it verbally, but the way you shamelessly ogle his chest when he pulls the shirt off says everything. 

As soon as his shirt is gone, he places a hand on your ankle, slowly inching your dress up a few inches before he stops and looks at you. His expression is open, you can tell what he’s asking without words. But for good measure, he includes them. 

“Can I keep going?”

You nod, eager and unashamed. “Yeah. Keep going.”

He starts to push the bright fabric further and further up your legs, speaking to you as he continues. “You gotta let me know if …” his words taper off when he sees the first hint of your panties, and you don’t know exactly what he’s seeing, but it makes him speechless for a moment and your ego inflates. 

“I’ll let you know if …?” Cockiness is audible in your words but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Joaquín blinks and comes back to himself. “If you wanna stop, or if you want something changed. We gotta communicate.” 

“M’kay.” 

And with that, Joaquín pushes the fabric completely over your hips and he’s met with your panties. They’re a bright color that compliments the color of your dress, and, consequently, your tanned skin. He swears under his breath and although you don’t hear him clearly at all, you’re pretty sure it wasn’t in English. 

You sit up fully and slip your dress over your torso with Joaquín’s help. He lets the fabric drop to the floor without looking, his eyes are focused solely on your chest. 

You’re laying back on your elbows, elevated just enough to look at him. You stare at his eyes, even if you aren’t making eye contact, while he leans up to hover over you. His head dips and he presses a single kiss in the center of your chest and repeats the action right over each side of your ribcage. The tip of his nose grazes your breast and instinctively you arch up towards him. When he pulls away just enough to look up at you, you see him smiling.

You could beg, but the night has only begun. You decide to save that for later. For now, you huff and stick your spine back to the mattress. 

Joaquín places a hand around your side and dips his head back down, this time higher than before. When he latches his lips around your nipple, a little gasp breaks from between your lips. He lets his teeth scrape against the bud, alternating between giving you pressure and giving you wet heat from his tongue. By the time he switches to your other nipple, you’re already desperate for a true relief focused on your cunt. His lips travel upwards, brushing against your skin throughout the journey, until he’s pressing them into the side of your neck and under your jaw. You let him continue upwards, you let him kiss you a bit more, but you can only go so long without real, fruitful stimulation. And maybe another time after this (circumstances willing) you would love to prolong everything. 

But right now you need to get fucked, whatever that could entail. 

You buck your hips up and end up catching the bulge in Joaquín’s pants where his zipper lies. You think he’ll catch on that way, and maybe he does, but he just chooses to ignore it. Either way, you send him a hint and Joaquín doesn’t do anything about it. He continues kissing you, he tweaks your nipples and slots a knee between your legs, all of which you’re grateful for since it is a stepping stone in the right direction. But you need stimulation, you need to get off, and the slow crawl is slowly driving you crazy. 

You pull away from Joaquín to call his name. He responds with a gruff yeah that immediately settles deep in your gut. 

“I need more. Please.” 

He grins right in your face. The expression almost looks wicked on him for the first time ever. He has the power here right now and he’s obviously letting it go to his head. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks while his hand slides down between your bodies until his thick fingers can slip between your clothed folds. 

His question was rhetorical (and smug but that’s besides the point), yet you still find yourself going to respond. Your lips part, you can feel the corners turning down as you prepare to say something just as smug back to him, but then he presses down and quickly finds your clit after a moment of fumbling. As far as words go, you’re silent. Nothing but sounds slip from your mouth from that point onwards. 

Joaquín toys with your clit. He starts with one finger, just the pad of what you think might be his middle finger, and when that has you forcing your hips up into his touch, he adds a second finger. With two fingers, he has more space to work with, resulting in larger circles right over the most sensitive part of you. He speeds up, too. 

Your back arches and you dig your nails into the sheets. You know what you want to ask for, it's simple and you’d already said the word in this space, but it gets trapped in your throat this time. You’re close already. Yeah, you’d been getting yourself off throughout the week, but finally having Joaquín do it for you has made you so much more responsive. 

You get the first syllable out, the ‘M’ vibrating in your throat before you open your mouth to round it out in an ‘O’. 

Joaquín picks up where you left off. 

“More?” he asks, eyebrows lifting as he holds your heavy gaze. Before you even respond with a nod, he’s already sitting back far enough to slip his hand in your panties and repeat his emotions. 

The first real touch dizzies you for a moment. You pinch your eyes shut with the pure intention of orienting yourself, but then Joaquín chastises you in a soft, but firm voice. 

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” 

You do as told, of course. 

He nods. “There we go.” His fingers get just a little faster, the circles tighter. You’re so wet that there isn’t any uncomfortable friction at all, his skin easily glides against yours. 

“You close?” he asks after a moment. When you nod, he continues, “If I give you this one, you’ll be able to give me another, right? You can give me more?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You’re breathless when you speak, and it certainly doesn’t help that it’s then when Joaquín decides to pull his fingers away completely, pull your panties to the side, and sink down completely until his face is level with your cunt. 

Just the image below you is enough to twist that section deep into your stomach into a knot. He’s barely able to give you anything before your back is arching off of the bed and everything in you mounts to a peak. 

When you come, it’s from the controlled and effective licks Joaquín delivers to your cunt. You don’t know when your hand moves on its own, but you feel silk-like strands between your fingers. It helps anchor you, gripping his hair helps keep you sane, especially when Joaquín keeps going. 

He broadens his reach this time. His mouth opens wide enough to slide his tongue down from your entrance and back up towards your clit. And he doesn’t just lick this time, you hear the audible suck from him. He’s slurping that shit, and you can already feel the introduction of another orgasm. 

If you were with anyone else, you’d be shocked at how soon another is on the precipice. But it’s Joaquín, and aside from the fact that you’ve wanted him for a while, you’re not exactly shocked that he knows what he’s doing. 

He slowly sinks one finger into you, pumping the digit in and out of you with meticulous ease. It’s a stark contrast from the almost sloppy way he’s eating you out. But it works. 

One finger is nice, it’s thicker than your own, rougher, too. You could get off just like that. And then, he adds a second. 

“Fuck,” you swear without any conscious intention. 

Joaquín comes up for air, releasing you with an audible smack. “Yeah?” he asks, the word coming from right in his throat. 

You nod as you take in the way he looks—cheeks flushed, hair tousled and hanging over his forehead, pink lips shining, his eyes wide and nearly doe-like. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. You see a look flash in Joaquín’s eyes then. It’s a look similar to the one he has whenever Sam affirms his work with a clap on the back—self-satisfied, delighted, proud. It occurs to you then that he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. He can read your body language, sure. It’s obvious from your cunt, along how good he’s making you feel, but you know verbal affirmation is different. It’s better, especially for Joaquín. 

As he goes back in to finish you off, you speak to him.

“Just like that,” you tell him. Just this little bit encourages him, you can feel it in his movements.  “Keep going. ‘M close, so close, Joaquín. Please, don’t stop. You’re so … you’re so—” Before you can even get it out, all noise dies completely from you. Your mouth uselessly hangs open, not even air comes out as your entire body stiffens. Nothing happens for a moment, Joaquín continues, you’re stuck, and then a nanosecond later everything knocks into you. 

Sound emits from you, moans and groans and breaths. You’re digging into whatever you can find—the heel of your foot into Joaquín’s back, your hands in his hair, the rest of your body into the twisted sheets beneath you. You’re simultaneously trying to escape and trying to keep Joaquín from parting with you for even a moment. It’s hard to decide which you prefer, you don’t even think your mind has any say in the dilemma, your body is in control at this point. 

Ultimately, your body decides to let go, releasing both of you at the same time. Still, Joaquín takes a moment to pull from you. He continues licking and sucking, but his fingers slowing down indicates his intent to free you. It comes after a few drawn out moments where you’re stuck twitching beneath him until finally, he pulls his fingers out of you and presses one final kiss right onto your clit. 

His head lifts and the evidence is more obvious than you expected. It’s gathered all over his chin, stuck along the beginnings of facial hair that will likely be gone first thing Monday morning. It’s gathered on his lips and along his tongue when he uses the muscle to pull the remnants of your arousal into his mouth. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and only then does he realize how much of a mess you’ve made of him. He pulls his hand back, brown eyes big as he stares at the evidence. 

“Shit,” he laughs. 

All you can do is agree through labored breaths. 

He tries to clean you off of his mouth, but not much is done. He leans in tentatively after that, as if you’re going to shy away from him. You don’t. 

You kiss him back eagerly, although a bit lethargically. You’re trying to hide it from fear that Joaquín could think that you’re done. But your body needs a moment to recover from that. 

When Joaquín pulls away from you with a small smile on his face, you know he’s onto you. 

“You need a minute?” The way he says it isn’t much different from the way he asks you those same words when he’s kicking your ass in the gym. 

And just like when you’re in the gym, you shamefully nod. 

Joaquín chuckles and leans in to kiss your forehead. “That’s okay. You want anything? Water maybe?” 

“Water sounds good.” 

You watch him leave and then your eyes are focused solely on the ceiling. You can’t even let what’s happening sink in when you’re still a little spacey. But you can handle more. You want more from him. 

Joaquín comes back with a glass of water. He stands next to the bed and passes the full glass to you. You don’t question the source, you just drink until there’s half left. You offer it to him and he gladly takes it from you. 

“Are you … do you wanna stop?” He speaks when the glass has been emptied and placed on the nightstand. For the most part he looks like he would be unaffected by whatever answer you gave, but you think you can detect some premature dejection in his features. Quickly, he adds, “Because it’s fine if you do. I’m okay with that.” And he’s being honest. You don’t feel any pressure coming from Joaquín at all. 

It’s what you truly mean and want when you immediately shake your head. “No. Let’s keep going.” 

He nods once to himself. “Alright. Cool. Yeah.” 

Excitement leaks from his pores but you don’t comment on it. You felt just as he did not long ago. You still feel like that, but you’re under a haze right now and that’s what your emotions are being led with. 

Joaquín hooks his thumbs into his already-loosened jeans and goes to pull them down. First, though, he pats at his pockets. When he doesn’t feel what he’s looking for, he swears. 

“One second.”

You watch his form retreat until the door of your room is pulled open. Not even a minute later he comes back in with a foil pocket brandished between his fingers, the same fingers that were in you not long ago. 

“You came prepared?” The question comes out more judgemental than you meant it to. 

Joaquín shrugs. “I keep an emergency bag full of … stuff. You know, in case of an emergency.” 

“Freak.” You don’t mean it. 

“You’re about to get fucked by a freak so, wouldn’t that make you a freak by association?” He seems to mean it. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

He holds the packet between his teeth while he slides his jeans off of his legs, stepping out of them and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He comes back around to the side, pulling the packet out from his teeth and staring down at you. Like this he looks more imposing than he ever has before. 

When he’s been out in the field, when he’s training, when he yelled at the car earlier tonight, he didn’t look as imposing as he does now—staring down at you over the bridge of his nose, hair tousled, cock tenting in his black briefs. 

“That’s definitely how that works,” he claims as he leans down. He presses his hands into the bed beneath you to leverage himself as he kisses you, slow and passionate. You wonder if he’ll fuck you like that too. 

You reach a hand up and pull the elastic away from his waist. When he doesn’t react, you tug the fabric down. You feel it get stuck around his cock just before you feel his cock spring free. It brushes against your wrist and you make a little noise into the kiss. 

As soon as Joaquín’s briefs are laying at his feet he assumes his previous position, this time sitting right on his haunches. You avoid looking at his cock for a moment, but when you watch him tear the condom packet open, you get the first glimpse at him. 

Even this part of him is attractive. He’s thick, that’s the first thing you notice. Thick and heavy, if the way he hangs to the side is any indicator. There’s a vein leading from his taut stomach down towards the dark and trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You hadn’t noticed the vein ever before, not when you had been too busy ogling the v-line chiseled into his torso instead. 

Now that you’ve seen all of Joaquín, you can easily conclude that he’s perfect. Just as you have that thought, Joaquín takes an inhale as he prepares to speak. 

“You’re so perfect,” he says. 

The warmth instantly floods your body. 

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” you tell him. 

He dips his head almost shyly and doesn’t say anything. Instead, Joaquín pulls the condom out of the packet. 

“Wait. Lemme do it. Can I do it?” 

He looks momentarily surprised at your request, but he passes you the condom and politely places his hands on top of his thighs. 

It’s truly an excuse to feel him beneath your palm as you glide the latex barrier down his length. You revel in the warmth beneath your hand, because as soon as you’ve secured the barrier around the base of his shaft, Joaquín's leading you back without even having to touch you. He leans forward and in response, you lean all the way back until you’re nestled amongst the pillows at the head of the bed. 

“Ready?” 

You nod, letting your legs fall open for him. 

One warm hand falls to the inside of your thigh while the other disappears between your legs to line up his dick. Then, slowly, Joaquín pushes forward. The stretch is instant, you can feel yourself opening up wider and wider to fully fit him in. If you weren’t as soaked and prepped as you were, you’re sure the burn would’ve been way worse. 

For a few moments it’s like the length of him keeps going and going, but then you feel his thighs press up against the back of yours and there’s the faint feeling of his balls resting against your ass and you know he’s bottomed out. He looks at you, gauging your reaction, and your response comes in the form of linking a leg around his back.

Joaquín smiles through nothing but the twitch of the corner of his mouth upwards, and then he wastes no more time. He rests his weight on his hands at either side of your head, and pulls his hips back just to roll them forward and slide his cock back into you. 

And for a bit, Joaquín does fuck you slow and passionate. He fucks you in full strokes, a nice tempo that doesn’t overwhelm you too quickly. There’s punctuation at the end of each thrust, followed by a nearly agonizing pull back out. Whether intentional or not, Joaquín’s introducing you to the feeling of his cock filling you up, just as he’s introducing the concept of another release to you. 

But you’ve had your fill, it’s his turn now. 

You press your hands into his shoulders. They glide back, one hand grazing over the raised skin of the scar that leads down his back, the other following a smooth path, but they meet in the same place—back around the front to where his chain hangs. You hook one finger into the gold link, the other going behind his head. You pull him closer until you can nudge your noses together. 

His eyes flutter shut and his eyebrows pinch together in the center. You kiss him once and pull back to tell him, “You can use me, Joaquín. Take what you want.”

His eyes open to stare at you with confusion written on his face, bordering on hope, as if he already has an idea formed in his head of what he really wants to do to you. 

You nod assuredly. “It’s what I want.” Just as you’re about to add a quiet plea to seal the deal, Joaquín adjusts his position and then he pulls nearly all the way out of you, only to forcefully drive back into you. 

The switch is immediate. He still fucks you in complete motions, but they’re shorter, no longer the tip to the shaft each time. These are faster, much faster. It feels like he’s reaching up into your guts each time, just to pull back and do it again and again and again. 

You’re forced to find purchase again, hands digging into whatever you can find. One hand attaches to his hair and the other holds onto his chain, your legs have linked around Joaquín’s hips, your head has craned backwards, leaving the area between the base of your neck and your chest open for Joaquín to rest his forehead on. 

You can’t hear his sounds over yours, but you feel them—quick breaths let out onto the sweat coated area of your chest. You would try and silence yourself to better hear him, but you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Luckily, though, Joaquín lifts his head and notches his nose against the side of your neck instead. He kisses you right beneath your earlobe, but when he can no longer complete that action, his jaw goes slack and every single noise he makes travels directly to your ear. 

You swear and it comes out as a whimper, not even a second later Joaquín swears and it’s a deep groan all the way from the back of his throat. You call his name and he calls yours. He’s affecting you, and you’re affecting him, even just by laying back and urging him to get himself off by using your body.

“Are you close?” you eventually gather the strength, and will, to ask. 

You feel Joaquín nod against your neck. “Yeah,” he confirms, “yeah, baby, ‘m almost there.” 

Your reaction is instant. You groan, a sound that could be interpreted as frustration if you weren’t having your guts completely rearranged right now. 

He chuckles deeply against your skin. “What? What’s up?”

“C…Call me that again.”

“What? ‘Baby’? You like when I call you baby?” 

You hum affirmatively. 

Joaquín lifts his head and slots one hand against your cheek. His pace slows as he stares at you. “You’re my baby? Hm? Are you?” 

You nod, whining out an “uh-huh”. 

“Yeah?” he grins as he says it, as if he’s shocked that you agreed. You don’t know if he’s serious, if he knows that his words are holding weight even if you’re a little dumb right now, but you do mean it. 

He licks his lips and you see an idea coming to his head. “You gonna be good for me, too?” When you nod, he continues. “Be good for me, baby, and touch yourself, alright?”

He gives you the space needed and watches your hand slide down your stomach. When you use two fingers to tweak your already overstimulated clit, Joaquín nods. 

“That’s right. Just like that.” 

He resumes his original pace, this time with his eyes fully locked on your cunt. He pulls one of your legs up and throws it over his shoulder, leaning forward to get even deeper into you. 

You’re close, you’re almost there, and the erratic way Joaquín practically jackhammers into you as he chases his own release is what pushes you over. You finish just after Joaquín buries himself into you and curls his body over yours. This orgasm truly feels like a release. Everything in you melts into the world around you, just as Joaquín’s body melts on top of yours. 

He kisses the skin closest to him, first in small almost discrete pecks, and then they gradually get bigger and more audible until he’s clearly making them ridiculous on purpose. 

His cock is still nestled in you and his head is still resting on your chest when he speaks. “You think you’ll be up for a shower?”

You hum, letting the question run through your head for a minute before responding. “In about ten minutes, yeah.” 

“Take your time.”

In the meantime, Joaquín slowly slides out of you. The emptiness is immediate, but after all you’ve been through since getting back to your room, you don’t exactly hate it. Your eyes start to feel heavy but you let them close for a little while. You rely on your other senses throughout. 

The feeling of Joaquín kissing over where you think your bikini tan lines are, the rim of the glass that he brings to your lips, the sound of his voice as he gently urges you to drink, the feeling of cool water sliding down your throat. He holds you steady as you drink with a hand behind your head. Your lips turn up tiredly, and you feel his thumb at the corner of your lip catching a stray drop of water. You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s wearing that same soft look on his features.

You’re so pampered there that you don’t force yourself to get up until you hear the shower running. 

Joaquín’s already there waiting for you at the door. He smiles when he sees you as if he’s shocked that you came, even though this is your room and your bathroom. Still, he reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you into the bathroom and in front of him. His hands push at your back, guiding you towards the shower. He pulls the door open for you and lets you step inside before he follows after you. 

You reach for the towel and soap, but stop when he tuts behind you. 

“I got it,” is all he says. So you let yourself completely relax with the feeling of Joaquín dragging the cloth up and down your limbs. He talks to you throughout, mostly asking you to lift an arm or turn around, sometimes bringing up small bits of conversation, every now and then singing bits of songs—some that you recognize, some that you don’t. There’s a familiarity now that you’ve gained since his hands had massaged sunscreen into your shoulders. 

Eventually, though, he finishes with you, leaving you to lean against the wall and watch him shower.

“You know what I realized like a few minutes ago?” he says when he’s rinsing the soap off of his body. 

“What?”

“Remember the couple from the club that first night? The one who kept buying us drinks?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Yeah well I’m pretty sure they thought we were like … swingers or some shit.”

You’re startled awake. “Huh? Why do you think that?”

“Oh I don’t think, I know. The guy gave me his number and everything. Plus you saw the way they were looking at us, and the woman kept cozying up to you.”

You frown. “I thought she was just drunk or friendly.”

“She definitely was drunk and friendly. And she also wanted you.” 

You blink. “I thought she wanted you.”

Joaquín shrugs and rinses the last of the soap from his back before he shuts the water off. “She probably did. That’s sort of part of the whole swingers gig, isn’t it?”

You laugh through a quick exhale of air. “Come on, Joaquín, let’s go to bed.” 

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your body. Joaquín follows after you. 

“Oh, I get to sleep with you tonight?” He sounds giddy when he says it, as if he wasn’t just fucking you so good that your legs are still getting used to walking again. When you tell him that, you see the unintended compliment go straight to his head. 

You end up getting exactly what you wanted. Joaquín leans into the bathroom counter with the towel hung low around his waist and his eyes watching you do your skincare routine. As soon as you’re finished, he’s trekking off to his room for a change of clothes and to do whatever he needs to do, and he comes back in nothing but boxers with a big shirt in his hand. He lays it on the counter for you casually, but you see the tips of his ears tinted just a tiny bit red when he retreats back to your room. 

You come out in his shirt to see him lying on your side of the bed, the remote in his hand and pointed at the TV. As if the entire trip had been going like this the entire time, he instantly scoots over when you come to the side of the bed and lifts the sheets for you to climb under. You lay curled into his side, telling him to click a channel playing a movie that you know he likes. 

The remote is placed on the nightstand, the lights are clicked off and you’re snuggled up next to Joaquín, wearing his shirt and talking about how the two of you are going to spend your last day of vacation. 

Not everything goes how you thought it would, though. Joaquín ends up being pretty mindful with his blanket usage. 

Could you do a wally Clark x reader with the prompts "i've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you." And "Feeling unwanted whenever they see their crush giving their time, attention, and affection to someone else. " I was thinking something where reader gets jealous of Maddie, real angsty but with a happy ending where wally and reader stop being stupid and confess to each other

i don't wanna dance if i'm not dancing with you

Wally Clark x Reader (3.3k)

Warnings: A curse word or two. Mentions of death (kinda unavoidable)

Author's Note: Thank you so much for sending this in. I really hope you like it. This was really fun to write, and I am so incredibly proud of it. I don't think I used any gendered terms for the reader, but if I did someone please let me know and I will relabel this. Happy reading!!

The title comes from "Holy Ground" by Taylor Swift

(divider by saradika-graphics)

Note: My work is not to be posted anywhere else on any other platforms.

MASTERLIST

It really shouldn't bother you so much, seeing Wally, seeing everyone except for Rhonda, really, fawning all over Maddie. It's normal to be excited and curious when there's a new ghost. You're curious, too. You want to know what happened to her, how she got here. There hasn't been a new ghost in a really long time, you kinda thought there may never be another one. 

But Maddie isn't like every other ghost at Split River. She doesn't know how she got here. She doesn't remember how she died. And that makes everything even curiouser.

You feel for the girl, you really do. Accepting that you're dead is hard enough when you know exactly how it happened. The only mystery you should be solving in your afterlife is how to move on, not how you got here in the first place.

Maddie Nears is an unprecendented event. Of course she's piqued everyone's interest. It's just that she's piqued Wally's interest and you can't help but feel like it's for an entirely different reason.

You've been stuck in this purgatory for two decades, after some shithead all-star senior was so excited to take his teammates for a ride in his brand new pickup that he didn't bother to check his rearview before backing out of his parking spot. 

When you got here you weren't too different from Maddie. You had no interest in being a part of anything, you didn't want to sit in Mr. Martin's little support group and talk about your feelings about being dead. You didn't want to write your obituary or accept what happened to you. You wanted to wander the halls, keep tabs on your friends to see if they were okay. You wanted to still be alive. Not that experience of Split River had been much better when you had a pulse, but at least you were breathing.

It was weeks before you started to come around to the whole being a ghost thing. To the reality that you were never going back. That one day your friends would walk out those doors for good and you'd never see them again unless they decided to show their faces at a class reunion somewhere down the line.

You went through your own grieving process, got to the point of acceptance, and that's when Wally Clark made himself known as something more than just another ghost in a folding chair for group. 

He'd been the only one of the ghosts that you recognized when you got there. There was still a photo of him in the school's trophy case. He was still a celebrated part of the school's history. A tragedy still commemorated. Unlike the other ghosts that the school tried to make everyone forget about. Somehow, he was still larger than life. He could be best friends with anyone in what felt like the blink of an eye. And he figured that yeah, being stuck here kinda sucks, but why not make the best of it?

So you did. You got on board with his philosophy. You did field day and helped with decorations for the homecoming game. You sat at the front of the bleachers and watched Wally's yearly go at reliving his glory days. You helped make the most of the yearly class reunions. 

Without you even realizing, you and Wally kind of became joined at the hip. Anywhere you went, he was usually there too and vice versa. Everyone noticed, you know they noticed. Charley was more subtle about it than Rhonda, but they noticed. And they made sure you knew it.

The funny thing about being trapped for an eternity is that eventually you lose all sense of urgency. Nothing feels that pressing anymore. You have all the time in the world, you can wait. You thought you had a lot more time to figure out what to do with your crush on Wally. You couldn't have anticipated Maddie or Wally clearly being into her. 

You feel you've been handling it pretty well, all things considered. You barely even flinched when Rhonda made the comment about Wally having a crush on Maddie after you all found out about Simon. Wally's reaction to that comment didn't do anything to dispute Rhonda's claim, and that made your heart break just a little bit more.

So you left, followed Maddie's lead and got the hell out of there. And after that you kept your distance. Stayed out of your and Wally's local haunts, tried to avoid him at every turn. Hid out in the auditorium since he barely ever goes in there because Mina intimidates him. You skipped out on movie night and gave yourself a few days to got your head on straight. 

If Wally likes Maddie then you're going to do your best to be happy for him because that's what friends do. Turns out that's a lot easier said than done. 

You come out of hiding just in time for homecoming set up. It's one of your favorite parts of the year and you don't want to miss it. You usually do a lot of the helping because you know how important this is to Wally. Everyone else is kind of just humoring him, but you really want it to be great for him. After all, there aren't many things to look forward to in this place.

You thought maybe they would've waited for you before they started decorating. But, really, why would they? There are so many things to do and so little time. It's nothing personal. And logically you know that, but it still stings to see Wally and Maddie painting the banner together. Because every other year it's been you in her place. 

Charley and Rhonda notice you first. There's some kind of snarky remark, one-hundred percent intended to get Wally's attention, on the tip of Rhonda's tongue, but you shake your head, practically begging her not to, before she can even say it. For once, she listens.

You don't want to be noticed just because of Rhonda. It feels like a silly thing to feel so strongly about, but you do. You've been feeling like you're second best for what feels like months, but hasn't been anywhere close to that long. And you just want to feel like you matter half as much to Wally as he matters to you. 

He doesn't notice you until Maddie leaves to chase after her mom. He drops his paintbrush and a smile takes over his lips at the sight of you. But it doesn't feel good, not like it used to.

"Hey." He says, quickly getting up and trying to swipe some of the paint off his face. He takes one step in your direction and something inside of you panics. You thought you were ready, you really did. But now he's a few feet away and you realize that you're not even close to ready. So you do the only logical thing, even if it is a slightly embarrassing and patheic thing, and you run away.

You make it into the hallway and you know it's only a headstart. He's taller than you and there's no way he's just going to let you have this. He's not going to let this go when you've pretty obviously been avoiding him. 

You hear his footsteps enter the hallway a few seconds later. You don't stop, but you do slow down to a fast walk. You're not really sure where you're heading to, you have nowhere in mind, you just want to get away from him.

"Hey." He calls after you, his voice still kind and curious. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Where'd you go?"

Because you're feeling a little hurt, and a lot petty, you bite back with, "Clearly you haven't been looking hard enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, a bitter edge finally working its way into his voice. 

"Nothing, Wally." You say, shaking your head. "It doesn't mean anything."

The sound of Wally's sneakers hitting the linoleum comes to an abrupt stop, but you don't. You keep heading for the stairwell doors.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on with you?"

"Just drop it, Wally."

"No." He says it with such force that it makes you stop. "You've been avoiding everyone. Rhonda, Charley, me. We've been best friends for twenty years, you think I don't know when something's going on with you?"

"You just think you know everything, don't you?" You snap, finally turning to look at him.

"About you? Yeah, I do." There's a cocky sort of confidence to the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Because you know that he's probably right. It's been a long time. Every single day spent together for twenty years, what could he possibly not know about you after all that time?

In some ways, you're pretty sure he knows you bette than you know yourself. That doesn't feel as good as it used to, either.

"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know as much as you think you do." You think getting punched in the stomach would've hurt less than seeing the expression on his face. It's like you just shattered something priceless. And no matter how you might try, those pieces are never going to fit back together.

This isn't the first time you've pulled something like this. Said something you know you'll regret just to get Wally to back off for a bit. It's usually, scratch that, it's always when there's something you don't want to confront. It hasn't always had to do with Wally. It happened for pretty much the entirety of your senior year. You'd accepted that you were dead by then, it'd been over a year, but it was hard to watch your friends go through so many rites of passage. It hurt to see them all preparing to move on when you were stuck and you always would be.

You wanted to implode. To sabotage what little you had. So you pushed people away so they wouldn't be in the blast zone during demolition. You were protecting them, protecting Wally. And you're still doing it. Even if he doesn't understand, even if he doesn't see it that way right now. Even if he never does.

"I know you do this sometimes." He says, trying a different tactic and aiming for understanding instead of accusation. Like that might be enough to get you to just come clean. "You get in your head about something and you get scared. You kick us out of your life before we can give up on you and run."

He's walking towards you now, and every cell in your body wants to run away. You hate the way the air seems have to shifted. A few minutes ago you felt like you had control over this, but right now it doesn't seem like it. It's in his hands now, and you don't know what to do that.

"But," He says your name just as he gets close enough to touch, his hand reaching out for your arm, "I'm not running anywhere."

"You are, though." You say, almost without thinking, and quickly pull your arm out of his reach. "You're running to something and it's not me."

Wally, to his credit, looks genuinely dumbfounded by that. "I have no idea what that means."

"Don't be dense, Wally, it's not a good look on you." 

You feel like you're making a mess of this. Whatever this is. You don't know the right thing to say. You don't know how to be honest in the right way. You feel like you're ruining everything before you've even really started.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I know I'm being kind of an asshole. I, just, I'm trying to be happy for you, and I am, apparently, really bad at it."

If you were listening, you would've heard Wally ask, "Happy about what?," but you're far too wrapped up in your head to hear it.

"Because you seem really happy lately. Happier than I've seen you in a long time. And that's great, really, it is. I want you to be happy. I just need to get over myself because nothing's ever gonna happen."

Something flashes in Wally's expression. You're not sure if it's shock or maybe guilt, but whatever it is, you know you can't stand it.

"I mean, it's been twenty years. If something was gonna happen, it would've happened by now. And every time I thought something would happen, it didn't. And I've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you because I still thought that maybe something would happen someday. But it won't. And I need to get that through my head."

It was like you hyperventilated through that. Like there wasn't any time to stop and take a proper breath, not that you even need to breathe anymore, because you needed to say all of that. It needed to be out there, and there wasn't time for anything to get in its way.

Right now you kind of wish you could have that feeling back. That sense of urgency, of a timer running down. Because now it feels like time has stopped moving, like you're holding your breath. Because Wally hasn't moved. His expression hasn't shifted an inch and he hasn't said a word. 

You immediately get it in your head that you've made a fool out of yourself. That this connection between the two of you is strictly a friend thing and nothing more, and he's trying to find the right way to let you down easy. You have no interest in sticking around for that. 

Without wasting another second, you turn on your heel and take off towards the staircase doors once more. You hear Wally call your name, finally finding his voice as he begs for you to just wait. But you're not turning around. Not this time.

Okay, so, maybe skipping the homecoming game was a shitty thing to do. You intended to still go. To pull yourself out of wallowing in a darkened corner of the auditorium and find your way to the bleachers. You got halfway up the aisle before you decided you just couldn't do it.

You can't see him right now. You don't want to have to watch as he fumbles for the right way to tell you that he just doesn't see you that way. As he tries his best to not make things awkward between you two for the rest of eternity. 

So you sit this year out. You bunker down in a front row seat and try to block out stray noise from the field. You try to forget that it's homecoming at all.

You go to the field the next night, when everyone should be in the gym at the dance. You want some peace and quiet and a good view of the stars. You get a little more than you bargained for.

You hear footsteps coming up the stairway. Metal clinks beneath each step, you don't bother to look in the direction of the sound. You're hoping it's a maintenance team or one of the coaches, but you know better than that.

The footsteps stop right next to you, you watch from your peripheral as Wally sits down beside you.

"Figured you'd be at the dance." You say, still looking ahead at the field down below. He's certainly dressed for the dance. You've seen the suit before, he takes homecoming very seriously, but it is always nice to get a break from his sweatsuit.

"I was on my way." He says, fiddling with the box in his hand. "But it just didn't feel right."

You nod your head. The last thing you want to do is add to the conversation and risk putting your foot in your mouth even further.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday." He starts. "It's kind of all I've been thinking about, actually."

Here it comes. You brace yourself prematurely, preparing for whatever variation of 'we can still be friends' is about to come out of his mouth.

"I think our wires got crossed somewhere. I mean, I thought I was kind of painfully obvious."

You turn your head at that, you can't help it. There are a million ways you thought this could go, but this isn't one of them.

"I talked to Rhonda and Charley, and they pointed out that you've been acting so weird because you think I like Maddie." He says, watching you with a slightly amused expression. "Which was really interesting because Rhonda's been teasing me for decades about my crush on you."

You don't know what to say. You're pretty sure you see a hint of nerves creep into his expression at your hesitation.

"How, uh," You clear your throat, "For how long?"

"Pretty much since the day I met you."

You nod, looking back out towards the field for a moment. For some reason you feel like you can't even begin to process that while looking at him.

"I, uh, I didn't know that." You say, looking back towards him but quickly looking away once more. 

"Yeah, I figured." You roll your eyes, turning your head to look at him. Your stare holds for a second before the two of you start laughing. It's a small thing, short but incredibly fond.

It dies off quickly, and nothing feels funny anymore. Not with the way he's looking at you. He slides in a bit closer on the bench and leans towards you. You tilt your head up slightly to meet him in the middle.

You know it's been a long time coming, but if this is the kind of kiss twenty years can get you, you think it's well worth it. That time doesn't feel so wasted anymore. Because even if you weren't together, it was all leading to this moment. And this feels pretty perfect, you're not sure you would've wanted it any other way. If you would've been ready for it at any other time.

You pull back after a few seconds, but you don't stray very far. Your forehead presses against his as you grin into the space between you.

You let yourself sit in the quiet for a moment, just enjoying what you have. You don't want to be the one to burst the bubble first, to be the one who throws you both back into reality. Not when this feels like such a dream.

"So, do you wanna go to the dance with me?"

You laugh at that, you can't help it. Everything about this really is so high school. It's a scene straight out of a teen movie. But you're not mad at it. You don't think you ever will be.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

Wally takes your hand and leads you towards the steps, but stops before you even get back on solid ground.

"I made this for you." He says, handing over the box he'd been holding this entire time.

You open the lid and stare down at the corsage. It's mostly paper, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful. Besides, your eyes are more drawn to the 57 right in the middle.

"57." You say, smiling up at him. "Your football number."

"Yeah, it was a tradition when I was in school." He watches as you stare at it for a few seconds longer, clearly getting the wrong idea and jumping to play it off. "Do you hate it? Because you don't have to wear it if you don't want to."

"It's perfect." You say as you slide it on to your wrist. You brush your thumb over one of the petals before you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. "Come on." You take his hand and lead him back to the school.

Homecoming might just be your new favorite time of year, too.

"SIM DUMP I"

Y’ALL I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!

after months of editing, re-editing, and missing cc, then redownloading cc 😭, i'm FINALLY dropping my first sim dump! these are some of my absolute favorite sims that i've made and (lowkey but kinda highkey) didn't wanna share but i get teww many request in my pinterest dms soo... here ya go :)

available to download 03/17/2024 on patreon (always free!)

Bubblegum

summary: Zed has a bad day and needs an outlet before he goes on a rampage. guess who has to save the town from a possible Zombie attack? yep. it's you or no one.

pairing: Zed Necrodopolis x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - canon doesn't exist here. zombies being zombies. biting. this is not your Disney's Zombie.

💌this is a little bday surprise for @therosietoesy 🩷 i'm still working on your request, my dove, fret not. i just wanted to actually gift you something 🥰

bonne fête, ma belle

___________________________🫧

Bubblegum

The thing about Zombies, you learned, is that they need to bite. The Z-Bands keep a lot of things in check, basically slow-release sedation to tamp down those violent urges, but if their heartrates rise above a certain level, the technology is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

And Zed's heartrate? Well, in the wake of the Prawn's devastating loss—that he shoulders the blame for—and another infestation of creepy creature that wants to whisk Addison away forever, Zed is on the brink of a total meltdown. To put it mildly.

His sockets are already black as the abyss when he finds you behind the school, snarling and spitting as he tries to ask for help, for an outlet; need you, now. He grabs your wrist as soon as you get to your feet and tugs you against him. Red lips curled back, yellowing teeth bared, the monster inside him clawing its way out faster than you'd ever seen.

You give him a pretty smile, "You wanna take this somewhere private, big guy?"

And, no, he fucking doesn't. Can't. Too consumed by thoughts of beating his fat cock into you until you scream. At this point, he can barely string together a sentence, words reduced to throaty animal noise. You giggle, sweet as sugar, and raise one hand to cradle his jaw and boldly sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

"You're in bad shape, huh?" You comment, not surprised when he snaps his teeth at your thumb.

Breathing labored, eyes boring into you as you gaze so fondly up at him, "Want," he manages to growl. You don't consider it an attack when he grabs you roughly and pushes you against the wall, brittle nails digging into your flesh as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs. A long pause wherein he just pants against your neck and then, "Please."

Such a courteous beast.

His Z-band is practically wailing, the sound reminding you to cast that neat little spell you've been using since you and Zed started this thing.

You mutter the incantation between stinging kisses before he savagely shoves his tongue in your mouth, fucking it in and out as he tries to taste every tooth and ridge and soft piece of tissue. God, you live for these moments. When he's completely at the mercy of his darker side. The side he tries so hard to smother outside of Zombietown. The side you love.

Not to say you don't love the whole package. It's just that you're more exclusive with the monster than the man. Person Zed isn't as...upfront about what he wants with you. Less demanding, more cautious. Meanwhile, Zombie Zed is a lot more decisive and has sunk his teeth into your neck to claim you more times than you can count. Hence the rubber-skin spell. Keeps your skin intact and the Zombie cooties from spreading.

He finally releases your mouth, biting and kissing a trail from your jaw to your pulse point. He pins you to the wall with his hips as his hands claw under your shirt, fisting into the fabric before, without warning, he tears it open. Needy. Desperate. Fucking hungry for you in his ragelust.

You can feel him through his jeans, huge and growing as the Zombie takes over completely, and your mouth waters. This is going to hurt in the best way. He grinds himself against your pussy; sharp, vicious strokes a threat of what's to come, all the while panting and snarling into your skin as he chews chunks of flesh that don't tear away from your throat.

Witches and Zombies really do make the best match, you think greedily, equally as frenzied as you yank his shirt over his head. Then it's skin on skin, your bra in pieces at his feet; his big, calloused hand groping your tit just this side of painful. He grunts, hips moving harder, faster, blunt teeth grazing the soft underside of your chin.

"Want," He rasps again, long fingers teasing under your skirt and pressing insistently between your pussy lips through your panties. In a brief moment of clarity, Zed leans back, expression pleading, "Baby, let me—fuck, I can't—" And then it's gone, the green mist rushing back in, making his eyes wild and his movements stiff as rigor mortis.

You don't even have the chance to give him permission before his fingers dig under the edge of your panties and plunge into you, corkscrewing deep as he growls in delight at how wet you already are for him.

"Mine," Zed bites into your throat, and you don't disagree, moaning as his fingers snap in and out, drilling your sweet spot. "Only mine."

There's no point echoing his sentiment, Zed so far under that he doesn't actually care to hear your thoughts, just wants to make sure you're aware that you're owned. He removes his fingers long enough to rip a hole in your panties, then to get his fly undone—the button flying, zipper torn—and his jeans pulled down enough to free his dribbling cock.

His free hand clenches a chunk of your hair and he angles your head, presses his brow against yours, demanding, "Tell me." He teases the fat head between your lips, pushes in the barest fraction, and smirks when you keen.

For a second, you have no fucking idea what he's asking until you remember, "I want it, Zee."

"Again."

Louder, "I want it, please, Zee."

Zed leans in, nips your earlobe and breathes, "Good girl...perfect little prey for me..." and then, fuck, he spears inside you, the feeling like being split in two. He has one hand on your ass, the other tangled in your hair, his teeth deep in the join of your shoulder and neck.

Every thrust is brutal, punching sighs and whimpers from your chest. He doesn't care if it hurts. He needs this. Needs you like this. And you lose yourself in it as much as he does, your nails mauling welts across his back. The sensation coaxes him to move faster, harder, both hands on your hips now to guide you on his cock exactly how he wants. Your tits bounce as he fucks you with everything he has, your brain scrambled from the sheer fucking strength he has at his disposal.

"Close," He grunts. He sinks to his knees, keeps your back against the wall, and fucks up into you with abandon. His head thrown back, lips parted, eyes clamped shut in ecstasy. "Fuck, baby, gonna come."

He slams into you a few more times and then roars his release, biting into your neck with the intention of ripping flesh from bone. Zed stays like that, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills an ungodly amount of Zombie seed, so much that some oozes around his cock. He hitches his hips three, four, five more times before going still.

The wailing soundtrack of his Z-band finally stops. You don't actually need that to tell you he's slowly returning to normal. His muscles loosen marginally, his skin warms; popped veins shrink and his skin adopts a less sickly hue. Still grey, just less dead. It takes a minute for him to calm all the way down, and when he does, he removes his teeth from your neck and lifts his head.

You smile at him, gentle, fond, "Hey, big guy. You with me again?"

Zed swallows. Nods. His gaze falls between your joined bodies, and he licks his lips at the sight before glancing back up at you.

"Did I hurt you?" He has to know, his concern palpable.

"No." You promise, "You never actually do."

He doesn't look like he believes you, but he doesn't argue. Not today, anyway. You watch him take in your torn shirt and basically disintegrated panties and bra. With a cringe, he hands you his shirt.

"You know, one day I'm going to bill you for everything you've shredded," You say playfully in an effort to prove you're okay.

It works, "You'd think by now you'd start bringing an extra set of clothes with you." He teases back, smirking. It's the first time that he's acknowledged how he gets when the Zombie takes the wheel, and you almost miss it because you can't get your brain to get your mouth to work fast enough.

"You keep saying 'this is the last time, cutie, I swear'," You parody his voice as you roll your eyes. "So, why would I prep for something that isn't suppose to happen?"

And Zed looks utterly confused—still cockdeep inside you, mind you, hardly softened at all.

"I mean the last time I'll be rough. You know that I've claimed you, like, eight times," He says, again acknowledging for the first time what happens when his inner Zombie comes out.

You're almost stunned at how casual he's suddenly being about everything after months of ashamed side-eye and stilted aftercare.

"I think that's a pretty convincing argument to be prepared, babe." He tacks on, his expression telling you that you should've known.

Gaping at him, "Wait, I thought all of that was heat of the moment stuff?" You blink wide eyes at him, almost falling back on your ass when he dislodges you and helps you to your feet.

"Heat of the mo—You know I'm still me when I'm Zombied Out, right?"

Actually. No. You didn't know that. You assumed up to this point that Person Zed and Zombie Zed were completely separate entities with conflicting views on what they want from you.

Oops.

"So, when you say I'm yours...?" You ask slowly, not quite able to believe that this whole time you've possibly been Zombie married.

Zed scoffs, hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body, his gaze turning dark and heated. "It means your mine, baby girl." And then, "Why the fuck do you think I come to you when I'm having a meltdown?"

"...because I don't scream in terror and run away?"

"You're an idiot." Zed snorts as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You shrug, "Apparently, I'm your idiot."

In playful retaliation, Zed nibbles your neck, bites and pulls the skin, chuckles, "Definitely mine." Then, dangerously, "but it looks like I gotta make sure you really understand what that means," he murmurs right as his Z-band beeps its first alert.

fin.

🫧___________________________

also on AO3!

Ok they’re not gone phew

𖦹⭒°｡⋆ avatar: the way of water

ONESHOTS

neteyam SULLY

     ╰┈➤ neteyam saving you as you fall off lo’ak’s ikran (sfw)  ,  neteyam has something important to tell you as you patch him up (sfw)  ,  you sing neteyam his mother’s songcord to calm him down (sfw)  ,   you are nearly killed during a hunting party, and neteyam panics (sfw/angst)  ,  neteyam sees you for the first time and falls head over heels (sfw),, pt 2 (sfw)  ,  neteyam defends you from ao’nung and his friends (sfw/comfort) , pt 2 (sfw)  ,  you take the bullet for neteyam, and are nearly killed in the process (angst/comfort)  ,  prologue (slight-nsfw)  ,  neteyam returns from the metkayina and falls in love with you again after seeing you (sfw/comfort)  ,  you want your avatar to become fully na’vi, but neteyam is firmly against it (sfw/slight-angst)  ,  you and kiri overhear lo’ak giving neteyam advice on how to ask you out (sfw/comfort)  ,  metkayina girls start falling at neteyam’s feet and you, his mate, gets jealous (sfw/comfort)

jake SULLY

     ╰┈➤ neytiri is nearly killed during a hunting party, and jake panics (sfw/angst)

MY LOVE. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… the half-blood campers live in a world where everybody is granted a soulmate. Everybody but the favoured child of Aphrodite, who was always destined to live a life without true love.

“My love is mine, all mine. I love mine, mine, mine. Nothing in the world belongs to me.”

( inaccurate details )

Warnings : Slight angst, not proofread (grammar mistakes)

A/N : late Valentines special… oops

—

Depending on what type of person you were, the concept of soulmates were either a blessing or a curse. To Y/N L/N, it was neither because she was never given a partner. The unseeable red string tied around her left ring finger never led to anybody else. Her skin never replicated the wounds of another person. Her world was always a scope covered in bright colours instead of depressing grey hues.

To others, her lack of a soulmate was great. She was free to love whomever she wanted without having to worry about a so-called soulmate. To her, it was hell. While it was true that she could like any person she chose, she would never be their first option. She was smart and beautiful and charming but their ideal pick would always be their soulmate.

It was sad, honestly. Especially when she knew boys would like her if soulmates didn’t exist.

Even when Y/N arrived at Camp Half-Blood, she was an exception. No soulmate meant no love life in other people’s eyes so it shocked everyone when Y/N was claimed by the very person who created the idea of fated partners. Aphrodite.

Y/N was awoken by loud giggles. She cracked an eye open, staring at her siblings across from her. “Why are you all up so early?” She almost groaned. It was seven in the morning and she knew her siblings always valued their beauty sleep. “Is Elvis Presley here or something?”

“No.” Silena grinned at Y/N, her cheeks flushing a pale pink colour, “Even better. A new boy just arrived last night and rumour has it that he’s cute. Cuter than Malcom.”

Malcom was an Ares kid. Ares and Aphrodite children always got along for some reason and because their parents had a complicated love relationship, so did they.

“Malcom isn’t that good-looking. What about Ben?” Y/N retorted, kicking her blankets off.

“I think Nigel is better.” Another sibling piped up, causing the whole cabin to burst into muffled laughter.

“That’s because you’re gay, Andrew!” They all exclaimed in unison, trying not to wake the other cabins.

Y/N leaned her head against her fluffed up pillow, gazing at Silena. “So, what’s this cutie’s name?”

“Luke.” Silena immediately answered, proud of herself for remembering the new camper’s name. “He came with Grover and a little girl.”

“Annabeth.” Andrew added. Y/N quietly hummed.

“Don’t be too loud.” She muttered, “I still want to sleep.”

As the commotion amongst her siblings died down, they too went back to bed. Y/N watched as Silena traced her soulmate tattoo before lying down, gently smiling. Y/N glanced at her own wrist, imagining her own mark inked onto her skin. What was it like knowing you were destined to love someone and they were destined to love you?

It must be reassuring.

Y/N didn’t remember when she drifted off, but she did and when she opened her eyes again, the sun was seeping through the light pink curtains.

Y/N lightly sighed as she sat up, running a hand through her perfect hair. That was a peek of having Aphrodite as her mother.

“Oh, you’re finally up. We thought you were sad. Too bad you aren’t.” Drew Tanaka was as cruel as ever. She was sitting at the vanity, applying a layer of pressed powder onto her face.

“Even if I did die, Drew, Silena would be the next cabin counsellor.” Y/N nonchalantly uttered as she stood up, stretching. Drew quietly scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“At least I have a soulmate.” She grumbled.

When Drew Tanaka hit hard, Y/N L/N always made sure to hit back harder.

“Yeah? Well, at least my ‘soulmate’ doesn’t hate me because of a rumour about me sleeping with his best friend. Which, by the way, was true.” Y/N quickly snapped back, leaving Drew speechless. Y/N was never one to act out but when someone asked for it, she delivered a killing blow.

Like any normal Aphrodite daughter, Y/N took her sweet time in doing her makeup. She could feel Drew’s glare on her as she swiped a red tint across her lips.

Y/N arrived at breakfast a little late, just in time to see the new kids stumble into the pavilion. Girls turned to whisper to each other, subtly pointing at the boy and blushing.

“That’s Luke and Annabeth, right?” Y/N questioned as she took a big gulp from her golden chalice. Silena quickly nodded, glancing at Luke.

“See, I told you he was cute.”

Y/N shrugged but Silena did have a point. Luke, with his perfect side profile, sharp jawline, and pretty curled hair, was a pleasant sight for sore eyes.

Y/N was caught off-guard when Luke sat down at the Hermes table and immediately lifted his head, his gaze settling on her without hesitation. Y/N quickly looked away, glancing at her wrist like she always did in hopes a tattoo would appear by some miracle.

Drew saw her moment of weakness and instantly commented on it. “Still no soulmate, Y/N?” Silena sent her half-sister a disapproving stare.

“Yeah. I’ll just fuck yours, I guess.”

Drew’s face sank for the second time. “Stay away from Sulan.” She hissed, glancing at the Demeter boy who wanted nothing to do with Drew.

Fate always drew people together so it was no surprise that everybody in Camp Half-Blood had their soulmates in the same place. There were multiple ways you could find your soulmate, depending on your mark.

Silena had her matching tattoo. Drew had that damned red string that only she could see. And Andrew could only sed the world in black and gray until his soulmate arrived, which they hadn’t yet.

Across the pavilion, Luke lightly nudged a teen named Chris. “Who’s that?” He asked, pointing at the H/C-hIred girl who was sitting with a group of unnaturally attractive kids.

Chris laughed for a short moment. “Y/N L/N. She will eat you alive, boy.”

“Has she found her soulmate yet?”

Demigods weren’t much better than their parents. They played around until they found their soulmate and that’s when they settled down. At least, for most. Some still had flings here and there, proving that they were just like the gods.

Luke’s question causes Chris to pause. He lightly chewed the inside of his mouth before stabbing his fork into a piece of bacon. “She doesn’t have a soulmate.” He murmured.

“How come?”

“We don’t know. She’s wondering the exact same question.” Chris shrugged before going back to his breakfast, “You can talk to her if you want but she’s a little mean so be careful of that.”

Luke quietly hummed, circling his finger around the rim of his cup.

The first time Luke talked to Y/N was when he and Annabeth were separated to go on different tours. Luke ended up with Y/N, who beamed at him and crinkled her eyes.

“Hi.” She effortlessly greeted him, waving.

“Sup.” Luke choked out, his voice accidentally going up a pitch higher. He cleared his throat. “I’m Luke.”

“So I’ve heard. Y/N.”

They walked side by side in a comfortable silence until Y/N spoke again. “Where’s your third person?” She questioned. “And I’m not talking about Grover.”

Chiron had tried to keep Thalia a secret but the gossip still managed to reach Y/N’s ears.

Slowly, Luke pointed at the tree that had mysteriously appeared this morning. It guarded the barrier between the camp and the mortal world.

“He turned her into a tree.” Luke grumbled, clearly displeased.

Y/N didn’t have to question who he was. Zeus, the king of the gods and ruler of the sky, had decided to turn his only daughter into a tree.

“Yes. The gods have always been a little… questionable. Shall we continue with the tour?” Y/N guided Luke forward. She did most of the talking while he listened, or at least tried to. It was hard when an absolutely stunning girl was standing in front of him.

“And last but not least, the strawberry field. Pretty, isn’t it?” Y/N smiled as she stared at the fresh strawberries. Luke let out a small ‘yeah’ but he was still staring at her. Y/N clapped her hands together, finally bringing Luke back to reality. “That marks the end of our tour. Any questions?”

Luke shook his head.

“Great. Oh, and if you’re worried about your soulmate, they’ll show up at some point. All the new kids freak out over it. If you’re a demigod, it’s almost guaranteed that so is your soulmate.” Y/N smiled again, making Luke’s knees weak.

Where was a matching tattoo when he needed one?

“So, uh… your soulmate… what are they like?” Luke knew he was most likely overstepping a boundary when he asked that. But Y/N, used to the shame and embarrassment of not having one, merely shrugged.

“I wouldn’t know. For some reason, my mother wants me to spend my life alone.” Y/N laughed but Luke could see the pain that flashed through her eyes. The same exact agony that Luke had been experiencing after all his peers found their soulmates expect him.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t have one either.” Luke piped up. “I guess we can be lonely together.”

Y/N carefully gazed up at him. She felt a glimmer of hope spark inside her chest but she shoved it down. She refused to get her hopes up. “Everybody has one, Luke. You do too. Maybe my mom just wanted me to play the role of Cupid.”

Y/N walked off before Luke could say anything else. Annabeth instantly replaced her. “What did you say to make her leave?” For a young kid, she sure had a sharp tongue.

“Don’t even, Annabeth.” Luke’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He never had a problem with getting girls to like him because of his good looks, but they never stayed. And Annabeth took every chance she could to remind him of their awkward moments.

“What did you say, though? Did you mention your pet crocodile again?”

“First of all,” Luke retorted, “It was a spider. It was not a crocodile. And someone set him free! I really liked him too. And, I only asked her about her soulmate.”

“You’re an idiot.” Annabeth deadpanned, “Why would you ask that? Can’t you see that it’s a sore topic for her?”

“Not everybody is blessed with your wits, kid.” Luke playfully ruffled Annabeth’s hair while she huffed in frustration.

She quickly swatted his hands away. “What’s if she’s your soulmate?” Annabeth blurted out. “She doesn’t have a soulmate. You don’t have one. At least, you don’t have the common signs. What if that’s your soulmate bond?”

Luke chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Maybe not… but either way, she’s still staring at you.”

Luke had never turned his head so fast. Y/N was perched on her cabin porch, leaning against the pretty wooden railing. And just as Annabeth had said, she was looking at him.

“Soulmate bond.” Annabeth repeated in that annoying singsong voice of hers.

Even as Luke walked back to the Hermes building, he couldn’t shake Annabeth’s words. Was Y/N really his soulmate? The person he had spent his entire life searching for?

Maybe. Standing next to her just felt so… right. He knew the moment he saw Y/N step out of her cabin that she’d have his unwavering attention.

Months passed by like seconds and years passed like days. Luke found himself becoming an expert at wielding a sword and not even Clarisse could disarm him. Y/N never bothered to try, always wanting to keep her appearance pristine under the hot sun.

“Do you ever get bored just lying around?” Luke questioned as he stood in front of Y/N. She was lying down under a large tree, enjoying the cool shade.

“No.” Y/N answered, closing her eyes. “I just don’t find it fun swinging around a sword in the hot sun.” The heat from the large star was unbearable during summer. Y/N hated the feeling of her clothes sticking to her skin so she was commonly found under trees during the hottest season.

“Why not try swinging around a sword at night? It’s cooler at that time.”

“I’m good.” Y/N truely was a daughter of Aphrodite, caring about her appearance above all else.

“I heard Silena found her soulmate.” Luke uttered as he sat down, keeping his distance in case Y/N didn’t appreciate his company. But she said nothing so he assumed it was fine.

“Yeah. At least he’s nice. I’d hate for her to have an annoying soulmate.” Y/N laughed yet that familiar look of envy and sadness flashed across her eyes. Y/N did well in concealing her facial expressions but her gaze never lied.

Luke and Y/N were seventeen now, almost eighteen. They had known each other for years and Luke had managed to notice some of Y/N’s subtle habits.

He also knew her opinion on soulmates. She craved for one and found the courage to despise her mother for her lack love. She prayed for one when offering a sacrifice. She dreamed of finding her other half and every time she woke up, she was disappointed that it wasn’t a reality.

Y/N knew there was more to life than relationships but why didn’t she have a soulmate? That was a query only Aphrodite herself could answer.

“Still no soulmate for you I suppose?” Y/N asked, glancing at Luke who shook his head.

“The main reason I was looking for you was because I had some sort of… theory.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, suddenly curious. She gestured for Luke to continue.

“I don’t have a soulmate mark. You don’t have one either. What if, in a way, our lack of soulmate marks is our bond? If that makes sense.” Luke almost stumbled over his own words, suddenly feeling far too nervous.

“You think… I’m your soulmate?” Those words felt foreign as they slipped past Y/N’s lips. She was staring at Luke in slightly disbelief. “I don’t know, Luke. Maybe we just don’t have soulmates.” Y/N chuckled at the end of her sentence.

Luke’s breath nervously shuddered. “Okay… so if we don’t have soulmates then I can like anybody I want?”

“Technically, yeah.” Y/N aimlessly shrugged.

“Then I chose you.”

Y/N stared at him with her eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why me?”

“Because why not? I’m not taking pity on you, Y/N. I genuinely like you. As more than just a friend. The moment I saw you, I knew that if I had a soulmate, I would want it to be you. We can take it slow if you want. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

Y/N could only muster up a nod, still in shock.

She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen after her indirect acceptation to his confession but finding a small bouquet of roses on her bed was not what she had in mind.

“Oh, those are pretty. Who are those from?” Silena was at Y/N’s side in an instance, curious to see the flowers.

“Luke.” Y/N muttered as she flipped over the card, staring at the messy handwriting that was undeniably Luke’s.

“So my manifestation did work!” Silena exclaimed, happily clapping her hands together. “I’ve been shipping you guys since, like, forever! And I knew you wouldn’t make a move so I manifested Luke to.” Silena proudly beamed as she rocked back in forth on her heels, “I’m so happy for you two!”

Drew, on the other hand, was not.

“Cute pity bouquet, Y/N.” The ravenette said as she waltzed into the cabin.

“I will slap you with the thorns.” Y/N fired back.

At dinner, Y/N ended up sandwiched between Silena and Drew. For two girls who seemingly hated each other, Y/N and Drew sure spent a lot of time together.

“Here comes your lover boy.” Silena teased as she watched Luke guide a new camper towards the Hermes table. Y/N wasn’t sure if she should stare or look away but Luke was already locking eyes with her, smiling so widely that you’d think his deepest wish just came true.

“He’s not your soulmate.” Drew uttered.

“I know. We don’t all have to follow the rules of soulmates, do we? You should know that better than anyone else.”

Drew scoffed, angrily stabbing her fork into a piece of meat.

Y/N didn’t eat much. Her stomach felt too queasy whenever Luke so much as glanced at her. Was she nervous? Her leg was continuously bouncing up and down so she must be.

She left the pavilion early, expecting Luke to follow after her and feeling proud of her guess when he did. “Did you like the flowers?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Of course.” Y/N answered.

“I really like you, Y/N. Please, just give me a chance. Who cares about soulmates? You may as well be mine.” Luke engulfed Y/N into a tight hug, his hands resting at her waist and refusing to let go.

“I don’t know, Luke.” She whispered. She had spent so much time alone in the dark that she forgot what love even felt like. Was it the butterflies in her stomach? Or perhaps the loud pounding of her heart? Or maybe her cheeks that were flushed a bright pink hue under the moonlight?

All her worries seemed to effortlessly melt away as Luke suddenly kissed her. He stepped back just as quickly but Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her again.

She wasn’t sure what was happening but she could feel small beads of tears roll down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying, pretty?” Luke asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. Y/N swiftly wiped her tears away. As stupid and it sounded, that was her first kiss. And it was the first time someone showed a genuine interest in her, someone without a soulmate.

“If we do this, Luke… you have to promise not to leave me too quickly.” Y/N whispered so that only he could hear her voice.

“I don’t want my soulmate, if they even exist, Y/N. I want you.”

Those words echoed in Y/N’s head. I want you. Those three simple words set off fireworks in Y/N’s stomach. She felt her heart skip a beat.

She really shouldn’t have indulged in her own feelings when Luke might have a soulmate of his own but she couldn’t resist him when he was looking at her with those puppy dog eyes.

After that fated night, Luke rarely left Y/N’s side. He seemed to be attached at her hip and even when Clarisse laughed at him, he ignored her. Y/N was happy for a while.

It was the new girl that caused her fragile relationship with Luke to shatter into pieces. She really should have seen all this coming. She always noticed the bruises that lingered on Luke’s skin. Bruises that weren’t his but ones he simply brushed off as small injuries from all his hard training.

Y/N was the first to walk out of her cabin and, by default, that meant she would be showing the new camper around.

She had arrived early in the morning and while she was supposed to be resting in the infirmary, Y/N found her under the tree she usually sat at.

“You should be resting.” Y/N uttered. She could only see one side of the girl’s face but nevertheless, she was still pretty. Dyed blonde hair with heavy bangs framing her delicate and pale face and light grey eyes that nervously shifted from the ground to Y/N.

“They kept pestering me about my scar.” She mumbled, refusing to show Y/N her full face. “It’s my soulmate mark but they kept saying it wasn’t. Apparently… my soulmate has already found someone.”

She finally turned her head to reveal the scar. It was a jagged line, perfectly mimicking Luke’s. Y/N stiffened as the dread began to set in. She felt like she was going to collapse. Luke always preached about choosing Y/N over fate but would he do so now that his soulmate was here?

“Right.” Y/N choked out. “Well, let me show you around first.” It took all her energy to hide her true feelings. She didn’t want this girl to know that she was slowly but surely cracking under the pressure.

“I’m Lila, by the way.” The blonde muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Y/N.”

As usual, she saved the strawberry fields for last. Lila seemed impressed by the big, red berries that the Demeter kids had grown. “One last stop.” Y/N said as she led Lila to a certain cabin. She knew she would come to regret this but the matching scars weren’t exactly subtle.

Y/N knocked on the door and just as she hoped, yet dreaded, Luke answered. “Hey.” He grinned widely at her as he leaned against the door frame.

“Someone’s here for you.” Y/N stepped aside to reveal Lila. Luke paused before he chuckled.

“This is a joke, right? Y/N?”

But she was already walking, more like jogging, away.

Y/N watched from afar as Luke conversed with the girl who had the identical scar to his. It trailed over the same eye too and it wouldn’t take a genius to realize what that meant. Luke had finally met his soulmate.

And Y/N was alone. Again.

The favourite child of Aphrodite. The golden star. The beautiful role model.

She was always destined to spend her life alone and perhaps she should have fully accepted that instead of falling in love with Luke, someone she couldn’t have no matter how hard she tried.

She ended up skipping breakfast and merely sitting in front of the vanity mirror, soullessly staring at her reflection. She wanted nothing more than for an ugly scar to taint her pretty face just so she could claim Luke as her soulmate.

She traced a faint line over her eye with light brown eyebrow and imagined that it matched with Luke’s. That, in another life, she could finally call someone hers.

The cabin door opened. Y/N didn’t have enough time to wipe the eyeshadow scar off before Drew walked in. The black-haired girl made an immediate beeline for her half-sister. Y/N thought Drew was going to taunt her as usual but she was shocked when the cruel girl hugged her instead.

“Soulmate or not,” Drew whispered, “He should choose you.”

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step on me

pairing(s): chad meeks-martin x fem!reader

summary: chad feels the need to prove to ethan that you’re his and what better way than to finger you on the couch right next to him.

warning(s): 18+ content, fingering, jealous chad, ethan isn’t ghostface in this he’s just a normal nerdy guy, chad fingering you while ethan is sleeping and unedited work

© msgorillagripcoochie , do not steal, post on third party sites or translate my work

Chad liked to believe he was a respectable man, he tried to be the kind of guy you’d wanna take home to your parents. He usually was, he wasn’t ever too handsy in public and he’d always wait till you guys were alone for anything but today was different.

Tonight was your movie night which was usually just the two of you but then stupid Ethan had to tell you some fucking sob story about how he’d be alone tonight and you were always too sweet for your own good so you had offered for him to hang with you guys.

He knew Ethan wouldn’t be alone tonight, he had a study date with Ruby from Chemistry but he also knew about the huge crush Ethan had on you. It was obvious to everyone except you, you thought he was just being nice but Chad knew the truth.

Chad saw the eyes Ethan gave you, he recognized them as the same ones he often gave you, now Ethan wasn’t usually a problem but lately Ethan had obviously been inching his way deeper into your life.

Chad hated it.

And now Ethan was sitting on the other side of you on the couch Chad had planned to ravish you on. Chad rolled his eyes as Ethan made you laugh, again.

Chad had his arm protectively thrown over your shoulder making sure Ethan kept some distance between himself and you. “You’re actually really funny, Ethan.”

“Thank you.” The boy blushed “Can we just watch the movie?” Chad huffed not bothering to glance at Ethan but you raised your head “What’s wrong?” You speak quieter but Chad doesn’t bother hiding the conversation from Ethan “I just wanna watch the movie.”

“We don’t usually watch the movie anyways.” He looked down immediately seeing your sweet eyes and he softened until he heard Ethan’s nagging voice “What do you usually do?”

Before you get to respond Chad does “We usually fuck.” He raised his head glaring at Ethan who’s face was turning red.

“Chad!” You scolded him not really knowing what had gotten into him “I’m sorry.” You apologized to Ethan before the three of you decided to focus on the movie.

By the time the movie finish Ethan had fell asleep on the other side of the couch while you had gotten up to get water.

Chad couldn’t help but glare at Ethan’s sleeping body, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was apart of Ethan’s plan so he can stay the night with you.

All Chad wanted to do was take you upstairs and you fuck you so hard that Ethan could hear you moaning from down here and maybe Ethan would finally get the message but then a thought crossed his mind and he smirked when he saw you walking back towards him.

He could do one better.

You gasped when he pulled you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he kisses you roughly his hand on the back of your head.

You tried to keep up with his fast movements, your hand holding onto the couch cushion as he pulled you impossibly closer like he was afraid you’d slip away from him.

“Chad.” You moaned against his lips when he gripped your breast through your thin t-shirt. His tongue pushing against yours and his hand began to slid your shirt over your breasts but you stopped him just before he could “We can’t.” You whisper, he can hear your breathlessness in your voice.

"He's sleeping." He promised as you looked over your shoulder to where Ethan was sleeping, you could hear his snores and his head was turned towards the tv.

You turned back to Chad with a raised brow "He's a heavy sleeper I swear." He said playing with the material of your shirt but Chad’s lying, now if he knew something it was that Ethan was a light sleeper. Ethan slept like he was always watching his back.

You don’t seem convinced.

"One time I fell, it made a loud thud and guess what? He stood sleeping like a fucking baby." He twisted the story remembering the way Ethan had jumped up like someone was trying to murder him.

But he needed Ethan to know you were his and what better way than to fuck you on the couch right next to him.

"Maybe he didn't want to embarrass you." You replied but you let him slide his hands under your top squeezing your breasts in his hand "You're so paranoid babe." He hummed pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and you moved your head a bit so he could have better access.

“I wish you’d be more paranoid considering that we’ve been almost murdered before.” You argue as he pulls the shirt over your breasts. As he rolls his nipple between his finger he shrugged “I choose not to dwell.”

"Choose not to dwell my ass, you almost punched that guy in the ghostface mask when we first moved here." He lifted his head from where he was focusing on kneading your breasts to look at you with a scoff "Hey, hey that dickhead was taunting you, I was protecting your honor."

You laugh at his words shaking your head "I think you were just scared." You teased cupping his face letting your thumb trace his skin leaning your head against his "Whatever." He said with a pout but you raised your head a bit pecking his lips.

"It's okay, if Ghostface comes back, you can hide behind me." He smiled at you, catching your lips one more time as he began slipped his hand under your shorts.

He let out an exasperated moan just to bother you when he felt you had no panties on.

“Shh." You shushed him but he didn't respond his finger rubbing your clit in small circles and the sudden pleasure catches you by surprise as you thrust your hips up but he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you against him.

You bit your lip to bite back a moan your hand wrapping around his wrist but it only encourages him more.

“Raise your hips.” He muttered and you follow his instructions embarrassing quick raising your hips so he can slide your shorts off letting them drop to the ground.

He lets out a happy hum spreading your legs again. He dragged his fingers through your wet folds, his middle finger teases your opening pushing just the tip in before pulling it out “Chad.” you whine leaning your head back trying to move your hips against his hand but it’s hard with his strong arm holding you down.

“Hm, what’s your wrong baby?” Chad asked throwing glances behind your head to where Ethan laid “Want me to touch you?” His voice is louder but you don’t catch it.

“Please.” You turn your head looking at him and Chad could never really resist your pretty eyes.

“Anything for you.” He says pushing his thick finger inside you a small gasp escaping yours lips, he moved slow at first pressing small pecks to your lips before you deepened the kiss.

Your hand slid to the back of his neck moaning against his lips when he shoved another finger inside you. Your tongue pushing against his before you sucked lightly at the tip of his tongue causing him to groan Chad’s fingers moving faster inside of you.

You pulled away moaning rather loudly, Chad smiled leaning his head against yours. You were so lost in yourself you had forgotten Ethan had even been sleeping at the end of the couch. Chad had always had that effect on you, you knew how to make you forget everything you were thinking.

He loosens his arm around your waist letting you move yourself against his fingers “Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers.” He kisses your cheek watching as you fucked yourself on his fingers, the sound of your wetness was almost embarrassing.

And just as your felt the band almost snap, Ethan had shifted on the couch. “Chad.” You moan as he still thrusted his fingers inside you like he hadn’t noticed.

“We should stop.” You tell him through labored breaths turning your head to him and Chad pouted “He’s sleeping babe.”

“But what if he wakes up?”

“This’ll only take a second baby, you’re almost there aren’t you?” you gasped his fingers thrusted hitting your g spot “Chad, please.” It’s almost too much and you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

He throws a glance towards Ethan watching as Ethan visibly tenses up, obviously now awake. Chad smirked “You’re mine right baby?”

“Mhm.” You squeezed your eyes shut “Say it for me” he whispered in your ear.

“I’m yours Chad.” you whimpered “Only yours.” he kisses your temple as you unravel on his fingers. He fucks your through your high, a smile on his face “You did so good.” He pulled his fingers away from you having no shame as he pushed his fingers in his mouth sucking on them with a dramatic groan.

“Chad!” you laughed covering your mouth to try and hide it “You’re a freak.” he chuckled as well “Go upstairs for me, I’ll meet you in a second.” He told you tapping your thigh lightly.

“Oo for what?” you played coy but you couldn’t hide the excited smile on his face “So I can fuck you into the bed.” He pecked your lips and you giggled climbing off his lap before stopping.

“What about Ethan?” you whispered looking between your boyfriend and the boy “I’ll wake him up.” He promised before you scurried off up the stairs he waited a moment before waking up the boy who he knew was already awake.

They played dumb to each other for a moment acting like nothing had happened “Do you need a ride home? I can call you an uber.” Chad offered as Ethan grabbed his jacket. “No.” Ethan cleared his throat shaking his head “I’ll walk.”

Chad nodded leaning back on the couch watching as the brunette moved towards the door “Ethan?”

“Yeah?” Ethan turned back towards his friend who smiled at him “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.” Chad’s voice is soft like there isn’t an underlying threat in his words.

Ethan nodded quickly his eyes widened “Yeah, yeah of course man.” he promised “I would never mess with Y/N.”

“Just making sure Ethan.” Chad squinted at the boy before smiling again “I’ll see you tomorrow.” he waved as if he hadn’t just threatened his friend.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ethan stuttered before leaving carefully closing the door behind him. Chad stood there for a moment tapping at the arm of the couch .

“Chad!” You impatiently called after your boyfriend causing him to laugh jumping up from his seat “I’m coming! And you better have your damn clothes off!”

“When do I ever have my clothes on?!” You called back making him shake his head as he climbed up the stairs skipping a few steps to get there faster.

“God, I fucking love you.” he muttered underneath his breath.

a/n: this isn’t proofread so there’s 100% grammar errors and im sorry if this sucks but if you like it feel free to request and tell me what you think.

ok but he’s so lame bc why NOT just the tip

her gorilla grip coochie isn’t gonna vacuum suck his dick all the way in 😭😭😭😭😭

(it might)

but like.... if he did one night? i mean, after you've done everything but that and you're a little extra pleading and... *nsfw content!*

'just the tip.'

'no.'

'c'mon, peter. sex is next so think of this as a... i don't know, a baby step! yeah, this is educational if you think about it, just another way of preparing me for the next thing!'

peter's looking over your face, he always thought it was a joke but you've thought it out. peter sees a lightbulb appear over your head.

'plus i'm all primed, if you know what i mean... i mean how you just ate me out, so i'm all wet and there's less risk of it h-'

'i know what you mean.' you grin, it was peter's turn next anyways, why not throw this into the mix first? 'cool. it's just the tip, it probably won't feel like anything, anyways.'

'thanks, cherry. that's very kind of you.' you wince, 'sorry. obviously i'm gonna feel something but it won't be like i'm being split in half. unless-'

'you're serious.' you actually want him to do it. you furrow your eyebrows, isn't it obvious? 'well, yeah.'

'i always thought you were joking, but no, you're serious.'

you shift around and tug peter's blanket down, you spread wide for him. 'so serious.' he's hesitant, you lightly kick him and lower your voice.

'don't you wanna be in me?' peter's throbbing, he's just a man at heart, he can only be so good and he's been very good up until now, he's allowed this.

'so bad.' you have no idea how long he's been waiting for this. no idea. 'then come here and give me the tip.' you make grabby hands, your heart's drumming hard, you're about to get what you want.

you almost scream out in excitement when he settles between your legs, lifting your hips to have your thighs rest on his. shifting, he's almost where you want him, you're held down with his hand on your tummy, you're gripping around nothing.

'i need a condom.' peter leans over you, you pull his arm down. 'no you don't, it's just the tip.'

'that's not how it works.'

you shake your head, 'i'm on birth control. i have been for years, it helps with my period.' peter's never done anything without a barrier, he's unsure but you know how to talk him into it.

'i just wanna feel you, don't i deserve the real thing?' if it was anyone else peter would be backing out calling for a baby trap, but with you he just falls in and can't think straight.

'you can have anything you want.' you can, peter wants to do nothing but make you happy. he loves when you're happy because you got your way.

'yeah?' your pupils are blown wide, you reach for him, begging for him to come just a little closer. 'wanna give me what i want?' peter's hot, he's about to start sweating and he hasn't done anything but rest your thighs on his and contain himself.

you hold your breath in anticipation. peter grips the headboard with his left hand as support, his right hand goes down, you startle when you feel... something collecting your slick.

his tip brushes over your clit, you bite down on your bottom lip. you can't stop from squeaking when a string of spit falls from peter's mouth, watching him softly jerk himself for a moment before lining up. it's filthy. you want all of him.

'we're not having sex.' you're not sure if peter was setting the rule for you or him, it doesn't matter, you agree with him. 'it's just the tip. that's it.'

peter nods once, 'just the tip.' his hips move, your hand slams down, you're searching for his. 'hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my-' peter has to switch, his left has control and his right has yours.

they're intertwined, it's less scary now. 'okay, i'm ready.' your lower stomach tightens and relaxes, your hips move with his, you feel him press in closer and closer and closer- your hand squeezes his- peter's back to holding the headboard.

you gasp loudly at the pressure, you melt into his sheets and throw your head back. unexpected reaction, you laugh lightly, not because it's funny, because 'it feels so fucking good.'

peter's fingers go white around the wood, he's using every single atom in his body to show restraint. the hand you're not holding his with, pulls at his waist.

'give me more.' peter feels the board bending under his grip, he's better than his, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how you were supposed to lose your virginity.

'it's like you're teasing me.' peter speaks through gritted teeth, all his focus was on not doing what you were asking. 'yeah, honey, that's the problem with just the tip, it's never just the tip.'

'mhm. i feel so full, oh my god.'

peter breaks his headboard.

half is ripped from the other, you go from pleasure to shock, you push at his chest while trying to sit up, pulling away from him entirely. 'oh my god! oh my god, what the fuck!'

dust floats over you, you cover your head, you're trying to figure out what happened. was it a bomb? and earthquake? an exploding manhole?

'peter, what the fuck was that? what happened?'

you. you happened. with the words and the noises and the begging and he couldn't fucking hold back anymore. his headboard paid the price, he can't believe what he just did.

'i don't... i don't know. i was just holding on and...' how is he supposed to explain this one? 'well, obviously it was a defective one! oh my god, are you okay?' you rip your arms away from your head, you sit up and stare at him.

'am i okay?' peter nods fast, his thumbs brush under your eyes, 'you're okay. i'm okay. we're okay.' you rest your hands over his, you stare at the half crumpled wood on the floor. you've held onto it many times, it was sturdy. you're questioning your theory.

'how the hell did that happen? it looks like you fucking ripped it apart!'

he did.

'i have no idea.' you stand up to grab your underwear and a shirt, you make some very clear points. 'okay, you need a new headboard and absolutely no more 'just the tip,' until you get one of quality. imagine if that came down on my head, i would be dead with just the tip in me!'

'i wouldn't let that happen, i'd give you the whole thing so you wouldn't die a virgin.' you pout softly, 'aw. you love me.' peter smiles, his fingers pinch together. 'a little bit.'

you stare at the mess on the floor, little pieces of wood splintered away on the fall down. 'hey- so do you think we're being punished for-'

'no.'